


In a Crowd of Thousands

by You_Are_Constance



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: And Minor Violence, Other, Rated T because of major implications, The Selection AU, but that's what the selection is like anyway, might update tags as this goes on, other characters are there but these are the main ones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 34,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28570803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/You_Are_Constance/pseuds/You_Are_Constance
Summary: Princess Anastasia Romanov is a strange case. Usually, a princess like her would be married off into another kingdom, but none of them seemed to want her. And so, a new idea was imposed. Usually, a Selection is for the crown prince and the crown prince only. This time, the Selection is for a princess.And she hated it.When Gleb Vaganov, a Two who was forced to sign up, and Dimitri Sundayev, and Eight who lied his way into applying, are both selected, who could guess what comes out of it?
Relationships: Dimitri | Dmitry/Anya | Anastasia Romanov/Gleb Vaganov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is one of the longest fics I've written (and i did the entirety of it during Christmas break). i think I'll be updated Tuesdays and Fridays (and yes, i know I'm in the middle of posting two other works, but they're all done! I'm done writing them all, and i just need to post them)
> 
> y'all know what the title is from, but it's bc in thousands of applicants, they all managed to find each other. my sister (@why-we-build-the-wall on Tumblr) is way smarter than i am
> 
> as usual, i love comments, but please don't swear!

Anastasia Romanov dreaded tonight. She dreaded going on for the report. She hated having to dress up and appear in front of the entire country, smiling and pretending to enjoy the time.

Yeah, well, she didn’t. In fact, she hated the time.

Tonight was proving to already be much worse than all the others, and she was still only getting dressed.

Anastasia stood motionless as her maids helped her get into her dress and did her hair.

This dress was probably the most uncomfortable one she’d worn before, which made tonight even worse

Really, Anastasia didn’t mind the dresses and hair-dos and jewelry. She liked to dress pretty, and didn’t really mind if it was uncomfortable.

The only problem was being seen by the public when she did so. She hated that.

And tonight, she was bound to be the center of attention.

It was her selection, after all.

Previously, the selection had only been for the male heir, the person who would receive the throne when the King died. That meant, if going by those traditions, the selection would be for Alexei and Alexei only, then the daughters would be married off into other royal families.

Anastasia’s father had a selection, which was how he came upon her mother, who had been a Two before.

Her older sisters, Olga, Tatiana, and Maria had already been married off into other royal families in the world, and it was nearing the time when Anastasia would be expected to marry.

The original plan for her was the same as her sisters. Marry for political gain.

The only problem was it seemed none of the other royal families wanted her. Anastasia wasn’t exactly bothered by it. She didn’t want any of them either.

And then, this idea had been brought up.

Anastasia could have her own selection! She could settle down with a family right here in Illéa and allow for even further unification of the country!

As much as Anastasia hated that idea, she had to admit, it was better than forcing her to marry off into another royal family for political gain.

Today, every young man of the correct age received a letter from the castle. Now, they would all be able to fill out an application and have a chance at entering the selection, to have yet another chance at Anastasia’s hand in marriage.

Yay! She was basically a prize for these men to compete for!

Needless to say, Anastasia was in a grumpy mood.

She felt even worse when Alexei came by her room.

“Any chance you want to trade lives with me?” Anastasia asked hopefully.

Alexei laughed. “Never.”

She pouted at that.

Alexei came further into her room.

“You ready for tonight?” he asked.

Anastasia let out a sigh. “I don’t know. You know that I don’t want this. I don’t want to marry just to marry. I want it for love, and nothing else.”

Alexei nodded. “But hey, maybe you will find love in the competition.”

“I doubt there’s a single man in all of Illéa that could win my heart, and even in there was, there’s no way they could win my hand, too.”

* * *

Dimitri Sundayev hung around the square, listening to the latest news and rumors. He didn’t often get to stay and listen for very long. Usually he would have been chased out by now.

Being an Eight in Illéa was not easy. Even the Sevens looked down on him, because at least _they_ had somewhere to stay and semi-steady work.

Dimitri, on the other hand, had no home, no family, no job. Not for lack of trying on the last one, though.

No one would even give him a chance.

Today, the latest news seemed to be about the royal family itself. The Romanovs.

A selection, for the youngest daughter, the Princess Anastasia.

He could be wrong, but last Dimitri heard of the selections, they were reserved for the men, the male heir. There hadn’t ever been a selection for a princess before.

Dimitri knew hardly anything about a selection, only that it was meant to unite the country and give a few citizens of Illéa the chance to be royalty.

He did know that he stood no chance.

Not that he wanted it, anyway. The Romanovs were a bunch of stuck-up snobs who didn’t care about the lower citizens, like him.

Still, Dimitri couldn’t help but feel his blood boil at the fact that he didn’t even have a chance at an easier life. It wasn’t his fault that he was born to traitors to the crown! It wasn’t his fault that his father was an anarchist and killed, and that his mother was already dead! It wasn’t his fault that he was born an Eight!

None of it was his fault, and yet, it was his curse.

Well, Dimitri wasn’t going to stand for it.

As much as he hated to do this, Dimitri knew he needed help.

But first, he needed a letter.

Dimitri passed by a row of insufferably fancy, rich-people houses. He lingered by each one, scanning it, knowing exactly which houses had a son near Dimitri’s own age.

And just as he was passing by one, he took his chance.

He snagged a letter from their mailbox, a letter from the palace, addressed to every ‘eligible young man’ in the country.

Every eligible young man in the country besides himself, anyway.

Well, if they got a chance, why shouldn’t he?

* * *

Gleb Vaganov had no interest whatsoever in the selection. He knew that many of his colleagues did, and he respected their opinions, but honestly? He didn’t see the appeal.

As a Two, Gleb already had his life rather planned out for him. He’d either become a palace guard or join the police force, like his father had. Everything was worked out for his life, and a selection was just not a part of it.

It was his mother that wanted it, not him.

“Glebka, you must sign up!” she insisted after he’d initially refused. “You have a good chance of being chosen!”

Gleb rolled his eyes.

“I don’t need to sign up. I have everything planned out.”

“Gleb…”

“No.”

“At least put in an application.”

“No.”

“There are so many people in the city, your odds of being chosen are slim.”

“You just barely said that I have a good chance of being chosen. That doesn’t sound like the same thing.”

“You must at least try. For me, Glebka.”

Gleb really wanted to refuse again, but he knew he couldn’t. If it made his mother happy, he’d put in an application.

His odds of being chosen may have been better in his favor—as a Two—than any others, but there were others in the city of his age, and of his caste as well. The people chosen for the selection was said to be at random, but no one actually believed that any more. The people were chosen specifically. Others would be chosen before he would. And even then, his odds of winning were close to zero.

But as his mother said, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to put in an application.

Gleb disagreed. It might hurt him. His chances of being chosen were zero if he didn’t even apply.

He wanted that. He didn’t want to be a part of the selection, but he did relent. His mother wanted him to apply, and then, it wouldn’t be his fault when he ended up not being selected.

And then he could go about the rest of his life as planned.


	2. Chapter 2

“Vlad!” Dimitri yelled as he barged into the older man’s house, waving the stolen letter above his head. “I need your help!”

“Aha, Dimitri! I was wondering when you’d come to visit!”

Dimitri found himself sitting across the table from Vlad only a few moments later, explain just what he needed help with.

“I took this from someone’s mailbox,” he explained as he showed Vlad the letter. “It’s an application form.”

Realization seemed to dawn on Vlad’s face. “For the selection.”

Dimitri nodded. “I want to apply.”

“Why?”

“If others get the chance, why can’t I?”

“Oh, so it’s not about the chance to become royalty, is it?” Vlad teased.

“I know I’m not even going to get selected for anything,” said Dimitri, ignoring Vlad’s jab. “I just don’t think others should get the chance to apply because they’re in a higher caste than I am. Even the Sevens get to apply. Why can’t I?”

Vlad nodded. “Well, I wish you luck in all your pursuits.”

“Will you help?”

“What do you even need my help for?”

“I need to become a different caste. Not for real, but I just need to make it seem real. I need it to seem believable.”

“You want to use me, to become a Four?”

Dimitri nodded.

“Do you even know how illegal that is?”

Dimitri rolled his eyes. “Look, we just forge the information that we’re related—”

“I’ve never had any kids, Dimitri. No one is going to believe it.”

“Does everyone know that? Is it not possible to forge some paperwork to make it seem like we’re related?”

Vlad hesitated. “You’re sure that you’re just doing this to prove a point?”

Dimitri nodded. “My parent’s caste should not determine my future.”

* * *

Anastasia only became more and more nervous as the weeks dragged on since the first announcement of the selection had been made. Now, she was mere hours away from learning who the thirty-five young men competing for her hand would be.

She felt sick to her stomach.

By now, all thirty-five young men had been selected. A few were at random—as it was technically “supposed to be,” but the most of them had been carefully chosen by her father.

Anastasia knew that most of them would end up being Twos or Threes. She was hoping for at least a Five, maybe even a Six, just to get to know people in the lower castes.

All the files of the selected were actually on her desk, in front of her, taunting her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at them.

She would just find out when all the others did, she supposed.

Which was tonight.

She was starting to feel sick again.

She was already dressed in a new dress that was somehow even more over-the-top than the one she had worn to announce the selection originally. This time it was a sparkly yellow with silver lining.

And she hated it. She could fully say that she hated this dress, not because of the dress itself, but the reasons for it.

Now, her maids were attending to her hair and makeup.

“I just don’t see why I have to marry,” Anastasia was saying. “If I’m not going to be queen, why do I have to marry?”

“To be an example to the people,” one of her maids, Irina, said. “You must set an example of marriage and prosperity to the people so they will follow in your shoes.”

Anastasia rolled her eyes. “Well, if Olga, Tatiana, and Maria already have, why must I?”

“Anastasia,” Katina lectured. “Your marriage will be to unite the country even further. That is an important job.”

“But if Alexei follows tradition and has his own selection, why do I have to have one now?”

“You’ve run out of other options, Nastya. But have hope. Maybe someone will capture your heart.”

“Likely,” Anastasia grumbled under her breath.

* * *

“Gleb!” his mother cried from the other room. “They’re announcing the selected! Come and see!”

Gleb reluctantly dragged himself to the living room and plopped down on the couch, really not wanting to be there.

Truthfully, he’d rather be just about anywhere but here.

But here he was, all the same, mostly just to confirm the fact that he was not selected and that he could continue his life as normal.

Because that was all he wanted.

Still, looking at the screen, at the report that was beginning to play, Gleb had to admit, the princess was beautiful.

Would it really be so bad to be selected, to be able to spend time with her?

Yes. It would be. She would be just like all the others of her family. Stuck-up and snobbish, and certainly terrible company. That was what royals were like, and this princess was no different.

“And speaking of the Princess Anastasia,” Maxim—the report’s interviewer and personality—said as he came over to where the princess sat. “How are you faring on this momentous occasion?”

The princess let out a soft smile as she replied, “I’m excited for this opportunity, and I think it will truly be a great way for me to learn more about the citizens of our great country.”

“And do you, by chance, know who these selected young men are?”

Anastasia shook her head. “I’ll be learning with the rest of you.”

“Well, let us waste no more time on this! Let us begin welcoming the brand new Sons of Illéa!”

The screen shifted, splitting in half. On one side it showed the pictures of the selected, the other showed the royal family’s reaction to each of them.

“Leonid Petrov of Allens, Three.” The King and Queen seemed to approve.

“Adrian Volkov of Baffin, Five.” Slightly less approving faces.

“Demyan Pasternak of Sota, Three.”

“Pasha Angeloff of Yukon, Two.”

“Slava Morozov of Honduragua, Three.”

“Osip Golubev of Waverly, Four.”

“Gleb Vaganov of Lakedon, Two.”

The room seemed to explode in chaos even though it was only Gleb and his mother there. Gleb sat there, still staring at the report, at his face showing on the screen, in complete and utter disbelief.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

* * *

Dimitri watched more and more of the selected be announced. Someone had yet to be announced for his province.

“Ermolai Nikolaev of Dakota, Three.”

“Stas Mikhailov of Likely, Five.”

“Vova Sokolov of Kent, Three.”

“Pavel Belyaev of Calgary, Three.”

“Borya Lebedev of Panama, Five.”

“There’s quite a few fives here,” Vlad remarked. Dimitri didn’t respond.

“Shura Vasiliev of Midston, Three.”

“Iosif Ivanov of Clermont, Two.”

“Dimitri Popov of Hansport, Four.”

Dimitri couldn’t believe it. It worked. The trick worked. Illéa now officially knew him as a Four, and Vlad’s son.

It worked.

Vlad celebrated, while Dimitri sat in a stupor. He couldn’t believe it worked.

He made it into the selection.

Dimitri knew that everyone in his province would be angry with him. They all knew he wasn’t really Vlad’s son or a four, and he knew they’d try to riot against him.

Actually making it to the selection was going to be difficult, he realized.

But hey, he’d made it this far. Maybe this time, something would work out in his favor.

The next week was filled with people coming in and out of Vlad’s house, guards, officials, all sorts of people that came in to prepare Dimitri for the selection. He sort of enjoyed the feeling of people caring about him, people actually noticing he was there, but he also hated it. He wasn’t allowed to go anywhere on his own anymore, because they couldn’t risk one of the selected getting killed before the selection even began!

The last visitor came only half the week later. He came and sat down with Dimitri and Vlad to go over some final arrangements before Dimitri would be shipped off to the palace.

“First off, Mr. Popov,” Dimitri had yet to get used to being called that, “you are now property of Illéa. I will have forms for you to sign, proving that you understand both what that means and entails, and failure to do so will result in immediate removal from the selection. Do you understand?”

Dimitri nodded.

“This selection is rather different from any others in the past. As you know, usually it is thirty-five daughters of Illéa, competing for the crown prince’s hand. Now, it is thirty-five sons of Illéa, competing for the princess’s hand. Details of the selection will change, but the rules do remain the same. If you are found to be breaking any, you will be removed from the selection.

“Now how about we work though the easy stuff, hm? Your health records are rather confusing, I must admit. As a Four, you should be more healthy than you seem to be, but we often get strange cases. You must take one of these a day,” he placed a bottle of pills on the table, “to help increase your overall health.” He also passed a form across the table for Dimitri to sign.

“Good. Now, as for rules, you are not to leave the palace of your own accord. You may only leave when the princess dismisses you. Even the king and queen will not be able to dismiss you. The princess will make every decision on who stays and who leaves.

“There is also no set timeline for the selection. It could be over in a matter of days, or could even drag on for years. It is entirely up to the princess to decide the length, and if you are one to stay for the majority of the selection, you are bound by the rules to not just leave. If the princess wishes you to stay, you will stay.”

This was a lot of rules, and the man didn’t seem to be finished.

“You do not choose your time with the princess. You do not seek her out privately. In large social gatherings in which everyone is present, that is different, but you will never go to her without permission.

“No one expects any of the contestants to get along with one another, but fighting will not be tolerated. If you are found to be sabotaging any other contestant in any way, shape, or form, it is up to princess to decide whether she dismisses you on the spot.

“Your only romantic relationship will be with the Princess Anastasia. If you are found to be in a relationship with anyone outside of the princess, it is considered treason and is an act punishable by death.”

Dimitri gulped. He didn’t think that would be a problem for him, but even the slightest chance of being killed made his heart pound.

“Being one of the selected does not put you above the law, and if you are found breaking any of Illéa’s laws, you will be punished according to the written law.

“You will not wear any clothing or eat any food that is not provided for you by the palace. This is a matter of security and will be strictly enforced.

“Fridays, you will be present for the _Capital Report_ broadcast. There will also occasionally be cameras or photographers around the palace. You will be aware of these instances, and you will be courteous and allow them to see your lifestyle with the princess.

“For each week you remain in the selection, your family will be compensated. I will leave the first check with you tonight. Should you be dismissed, an aide will help you adjust to your life after the selection.

“Should you make it to the top ten selected, or the Elite, you will be required to learn about certain inner workings of life as a royal, but as this is not a selection for the crown prince, you will not be expected to learn how to run a kingdom.

“From this moment on, Mr. Popov, your official status is a Three.”

Dimitri nearly choked. “A… a Three?”

“Yes, but your family does remain as Fours. We have found that contestants below a Two or Three usually have a difficulty adjusting back to their life after the selection. Should you win the selection, you and the rest of your family become Ones. If you make it to the Elite, more details will be given. Do you understand?”

Dimitri managed to choke out a faint, “Yes.”

“Very good. Now, if you could just sign here, that you have heard all the official rules, and here” he said to Vlad, “that you have received your first check, and I will be on my way.”

They both did so.

“And if one of you could show me the door?”

Dimitri was slightly confused as to why, but he did so.

Just as the man was about to leave, he turned back to Dimitri and said, “One more thing.”

Wasn’t that already enough?

“It is not exactly a rule, but it would be extremely unwise for you to ignore. Should the princess want anything from you, you do not refuse.”

“What?”

“It certainly sounds… unbecoming, but it would do you well to not refuse the princess anything. Good evening, Mr. Popov.”

Dimitri stood there, completely disgusted and revolted.

Maybe this whole selection thing wasn’t worth everything it was made out to be.


	3. Chapter 3

Gleb was incredibly nervous when he dressed that morning in the simple suit that had been chosen for all the selected to wear.

Each of the selected would be getting a send-off in their home province today, and Gleb was not exactly looking forward to his.

It was only Gleb’s mother that could be with him to see him off officially. Only family was allowed, and she was the only family Gleb had left.

Even just walking from the house to the car provided proved to be immensely difficult. There were photographers along every inch of the walk.

And then, when he was standing on the raised stage, he could see all sorts of people from the province. The difference in castes was hard to see, mostly because none of them looked supportive of him.

Gleb wanted to scream, to say that he never wanted any of this, to give up his chance for someone else, but he couldn’t do that.

All he could do was stand there and pretend that none of the glares and even ‘boos’ that he heard bothered him in the slightest.

The mayor began to speak. “The Province of Lakedon will be cheering on this new son of Illéa, Sir Gleb Vaganov!”

There was some clapping and hardly any cheers. Most of the clapping was out of politeness. No one really liked Gleb being there. The Twos and Threes were convinced he’d stolen something from them, and the lower castes were always angry when a Two or Three was chosen.

Gleb continued to survey the crowd, hoping to find even a single familiar and friendly face, hoping that someone supported him, but it seemed not to be.

Gleb was well aware of just how uncomfortable and awkward he seemed. Others thrived with all the attention, photographers taking pictures left and right, people either screaming—whether it be out of joy or anger—but Gleb didn’t. Gleb hated the attention.

He wanted to get out.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the mayor continued. “Please join me in sending off Gleb Vaganov, our favorite Son of Illéa!”

Quiet cheers, just as dull as the ones before.

The mayor asked Gleb if he’d like to say anything, and frankly, he did, but the words he wanted to say to these people who pretended to be his friends but turned against him as soon as he beat them at something was not something that would be respectable to say out loud.

Thinking it, though…

Gleb refused the offer.

The mayor continued to address the crowd, and finally, it was time to leave and say goodbye.

The only person in the entire province that Gleb cared to say goodbye to was his mother, who was crying tears of joy.

He said a sweet goodbye to her, who in turn encouraged him to win, and then he was off.

* * *

Dimitri hated this already.

He stood on a raised platform, in front of at least half the people of Hansport.

And no one cheered for him.

In fact, they did quite the opposite! They booed him. They hated him.

Even some of them cried, saying that he wasn’t a Four! He was an Eight!

He hoped their cries weren’t loud enough for it to be investigated.

He wanted to run, run so far away that no one would ever find him again.

He’d never meant for this trick to get this far. He only wanted to prove that he should have just as much of a chance as anyone else.

Dimitri tried not to let the cries of outrage get to him, but deep down, they did. He didn’t have a single supporter in the entire city, save for Vlad.

Dimitri sought out Vlad’s gaze in the crowd. He felt immensely better at seeing a single friendly and supportive face in the crowd.

“Hm, that’s odd,” the mayor said under his breath. It appeared that the mayor didn’t seem to know of Dimitri’s actual caste, even though the rest of the province did. “Usually the lower castes are happy to have a Four. And usually no one insists that someone faked their caste unless they were a Two or Three.”

“So has someone faked their caste before?” Dimitri asked.

The mayor nodded. “Tried, at least. But of course, if they succeeded, we’d never know, would we?”

Dimitri nodded to himself as the mayor went back to encouraging the crowd to cheer for Dimitri, but it was quite clear that they were opposed to the idea.

When it was time to leave, Dimitri said goodbye to Vlad and no one else. He didn’t have anyone else that he would even want to say goodbye to.

Vlad—as could be expected—encouraged Dimitri to win.

Dimitri laughed it off. There was no way he’d win, and frankly, he didn’t want it all that much.

This had all started because Dimitri wanted to prove that he was no worse than anyone else from higher castes.

He’d never thought it would get this far, but now that it had…

He wasn’t sure what to do anymore.

* * *

Anastasia watched the footage of each of the young men in their home provinces. She was trying to pick out who these men really were, just based on how they interacted with people from their provinces. She was having a hard time trying to puzzle them out.

Alexei sat next to her, watching just as closely as she was.

“I like that one,” said Alexei when a dark-skinned man with longer hair came up on screen.

“Viktor Mikhailov of Atlin, Two,” Anastasia said to herself. She was trying to commit all the names and faces to memory before any of them even arrived at the palace. “You only like him because he’s a movie star.”

Alexei shrugged. “I think he did good in them.”

Anastasia laughed. “You’re a fan, aren’t you?”

Alexei nodded sheepishly.

“Well, you’ll get to meet him soon.”

“Yay!” Alexei cheered, and Anastasia felt at least slightly better about this whole selection thing.

She continued to watch each of the men, none of them really catching her eye. There were a few that she remembered a bit more clearly than the others.

Stas Mikhailov of Likely, Five, was courteous to the people of his province. He had a kind and likeable face, that was for sure.

Gleb Vaganov of Lakedon, Two, looked uncomfortable. It was kind of a nice change from all the others that seemed at ease in the big crowds.

Lyosha Agapov of Whites, Three, took forever to leave his province because of the number of goodbyes he had to say.

And Dimitri Popov of Hansport, Four. His send-off was just about the most pitiful thing Anastasia had ever seen. He looked sad and lonely, almost like a lost puppy.

None of them looked to be great options, mostly because Anastasia did not want any of them, but at least a few of them seemed to be genuine people that she could at least learn to enjoy spending time with in the near future.

For the rest of her life on the other hand, that was another story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not fully happy with this chapter, but i hope you all like it!


	4. Chapter 4

Gleb was the first at the airport. He’d be traveling with three others of the selected, the men from Labrador, Waverly, and Hansport. He represented Lakedon.

If he was correct—which he was, since he’d memorized all the names and faces of the selected—that would be Timur Stepanov of Labrador, a Four, Osip Golubev of Waverly, also a Four, and Dimitri Popov of Hansport, yet another Four.

Great. Now he’d be the odd one out.

He’d done the math, and with about 34% of the selected being Twos, and 26% being fours, it didn’t make sense that all three of his companions were Fours.

Gleb—unlike others of his caste—had nothing against people of lower castes. He actually hated the caste system a little bit, which was odd for him, as a Two.

It only meant that his three companions on this journey would likely hate him immediately simply because he was a Two, and Gleb dreaded that.

Timur Stepanov arrived a while after Gleb had, after obviously taking a lot longer in his province. He didn’t speak to Gleb, just eyed him warily before passing by him.

Then Osip Golubev arrived and didn’t speak to Gleb either, going directly to Timur, the two of them seeming to hit it off immediately.

And finally, not long after, Dimitri Popov arrived. He began to ask when they left, but then, right on cue, a man appeared from a door to the left.

“I hear all four have arrived?”

Dimitri was the first to respond. “We’re all here.”

The man nodded. “Good. This way.”

Gleb was partially glad for the interruption so that he didn’t actually need to socialize with any of these other contestants.

And then they were on the plane.

Gleb watched Timur and Osip continue to talk together during the flight, while Dimitri stared out the window in awe at the ground below them.

Gleb didn’t realize he’d zoned out, deep in thought, until he was forced out.

“What are you doing?” Dimitri asked in a slightly condescending tone. “What are you looking at?”

“I wasn’t staring at you, I was zoned out,” Gleb explained, probably not sounding any less condescending than Dimitri did.

“Don’t take me for stupid. Just because I wasn’t born a Two like you—”

“Did I ever bring my caste into this?”

“People like you always do. You always think you’re better than me just because you were born into a rich family or something.”

“I wasn’t the one to bring up the caste system,” Gleb pointed out. “You were.”

Dimitri snorted. “As if you weren’t gonna if I didn’t already.”

“Going to.”

“What?”

“’As if you weren’t going to.’”

“So now you’re mocking my vocabulary.”

“I’m not—”

It was a good thing the plane landed and they were interrupted. Gleb wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle ‘playing nice.’

They all walked the distance from the plane to the terminal, guards flanking them on all sides, the air eerily quiet.

Once the terminal doors opened, on the other hand, Gleb missed the silence.

There were people, flocks of people, each calling out for each of them, taking photos and wanting autographs.

Gleb wanted to shy away, to hide until it was all over, but he knew he couldn’t.

He tried to seem much more confident and relaxed than he really was, especially at realizing that there were people, people here, people that wanted him to win.

From his province, no one had liked him. Here, he already had fans.

It felt strange, scary, even.

Then, after leaving the terminal, the four of them were packed together in a car—though it wasn’t exactly ‘packed’ as the car had plenty of space—to drive to the palace.

The roads were packed with people, even more people than at the airport, but they were told to keep the windows rolled up.

Not that Gleb would have rolled them down, anyway.

Gleb was stuck next to Dimitri in the car, Osip and Timur sitting across from them.

Gleb managed to avoid saying a word to any of them during the entire drive.

* * *

After arriving at the palace, they were all rushed into a loud and busy room, for ‘makeovers.’

And it turned out to be just as bad as Dimitri thought it would be, but he assumed that it was actually toned down quite a lot for the men than it would have been in previous selections.

Still, when Dimitri looked in a mirror after it was all finished, he could hardly recognize himself (and he’d protested a lot of the different aspects of the makeover!).

The one thing he did actually manage to win on was his hair. He refused to let anyone cut it, not even a trim, but it had been styled.

Now, instead of just being pushed back whenever a lock fell into his face, his dark brown hair seemed to swoop over his head in a way he’d never thought possible.

He knew it wouldn’t last very long, though. Dimitri was known for being restless and not one to sit still.

He’d also been forced into a new suit, tailored to fit him, black and simple (but still much more than he was used to!). A silver nametag had also been attached to the left side of suit coat, just below the collar.

Dimitri was then directed to a circular couch, which he sat down—more like ‘lounged on’—for a while before a few of them were taken on a brief tour around the palace.

“This room in here is the Men’s room,” they were told. “You’ll be spending most of your time here, so you’d best get used to it. This room is usually reserved for the King and the Crown Prince, so you’ll likely get to meet with them.

“On your way in here you passed the Great Room, which is used for parties and banquets. Now here is the dining room, which will be large enough to suit your needs. Each of you have your own place marking which you will find when it is time for dinner.

“This hall here is off-limits to all of the selected. It is where the King does most of his work, along with the Crown Prince occasionally. The third floor will also be off-limits, as that is the royal family’s private rooms. You will all be using guest rooms, which are located on the second floor.

“These doors here lead to the back garden.”

Dimitri recognized the archway that led into the Great Room, which, if he was correct, the Men’s room would be just around the corner.

“None of you are to go outside under any circumstances. There will be times during the day when you will be allowed in the garden, but only with permission.

“Your things are already in your rooms. Should you find anything unsuitable, simply inform your servants. You will each have three during your time here.

“Before dinner, you will all meet in the Men’s Room for a special screening of the _Illéa Capital Report,_ and next week, you will be on the show yourselves!

“Tonight, you will all eat dinner as a group, and then tomorrow, you will meet the princess herself!”

Dimitri gulped. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, but he was.

He didn’t even want to be here in the first place! Why was the idea of meeting the princess so terrifying for him?

* * *

Anastasia was stressing. She knew that. As of an hour ago, there were now thirty-five men in the palace, all of which would be competing to win her hand in marriage.

Yes, it all came down to her decision in the end, but that didn’t make it any easier to think about.

She would meet them all officially tomorrow, before breakfast.

She was starting to feel sick again. Like, physically sick.

Thankfully, the feeling passed quickly, but it didn’t mean she felt better about the whole aspect.

Anastasia hadn’t managed to catch any glimpses of the men since they entered the castle; she’d basically spent the entire day locked in her room, stressing, studying up on some of the men, and stressing some more.

None of them stood out to her as ones she couldn’t bear to be with, but none of them stood out to her as ones she could bear to be with either.

She didn’t know how she was going to handle this.

What if she sent someone home quickly, and he turned out to be the only one in the group she could handle?

What if she screwed up like that? What then?

She wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t sure if she would ever be ready for something like this.

This selection, this _competition_ determined the rest of her life. It determined _who_ she would spend the rest of her life with, and she wasn’t ready to make that important decision.

She wasn’t even ready to meet these men tomorrow, much less get to know them.

The world still thought that she was the perfect princess, like she appeared on the report. She was always cool and calm there, but never herself. Being herself wasn’t exactly something that was encouraged anymore, not since she was a child.

And yet, all the advice she was given for this was to be herself, and then she’d find the right guy.

But Anastasia wasn’t so sure that she was ready to show all these people who she really was, not just who she pretended to be on TV.

Because those two people were vastly different.


	5. Chapter 5

Gleb already hated it here. He hated the palace, and he hated the people in it. He hated the other selected, and frankly, he hated himself.

He hadn’t even met the princess yet, and already, he wanted to leave. Gleb just wanted this whole event to be over and he could finally go about the life he planned.

But he could never really go back to the way things were before, could he? No one was the same after being part of a selection. No one was treated the same after being part of a selection.

Now everyone in Illéa knew who Gleb was, and they’d never forget, would they? Gleb would forever be known as one of the Sons of Illéa, even if he got dismissed tomorrow. He’d never be seen the same way again. Others might enjoy that, but Gleb didn’t. He wanted to make his own way in the world, not just be known all around the country because of a stupid contest.

Who even won this contest, anyway? Most would say that whoever gets to marry the princess, but they don’t really have a choice in it, do they? If the princess chose them, they had no say in the matter. At this point, they were all just puppets playing a game that no one won.

It had been only a few hours, and Gleb had already made enemies. Dimitri was the first that came to mind. Gleb certainly noticed the glares, and he’d be lying to say he didn’t return them.

Not to mention at least half of the lower castes, and even a few of the upper castes.

Just to be safe, Gleb assumed that at least 68% of the selected did not like him, and at least 50% of those hated him.

Those… were not good odds.

But Gleb wasn’t here to make friends. Gleb didn’t even know what he was here for.

Because it certainly wasn’t the princess.

Why _was_ he here?

There was an easy answer. Because he was selected, but Gleb knew that wasn’t the answer he was looking for.

He didn’t deserve to be here, that was all he knew.

Hopefully he’d get sent home soon so that this would all be behind him.

* * *

Dimitri seemed to be the only one of the selected to have made himself at home in the palace. He knew he wouldn’t stay here for very long, but he certainly was going to enjoy his time while he had it.

So here he was, lounged out in the Men’s Room, ignoring just about everybody else that was there. Unless something really drastic happened, he wouldn’t get kicked out tonight.

Did Dimitri know that it wasn’t proper for him to have his feet up on the table in front of him? Yes. Did he care? No. He wasn’t going to stop it anytime soon.

“Put your feet down,” the person next to Dimitri said in a hushed voice. Dimitri rolled his eyes at realizing that it was Gleb Vaganov.

How on Earth did he end up sitting next to Gleb Vaganov? Of all people?

“I don’t think I will,” Dimitri said pleasantly. “What, are you going to make me?”

“Don’t try me,” Gleb hissed.

“Oh, I’m so afraid!”

Dimitri looked up at Gleb, finding him glaring with fire in his eyes.

Maybe he was just a little afraid, but Dimitri was never going to admit it.

“Maybe you should be.”

“Maybe you should learn to play nice,” Dimitri lectured.

“Maybe you should learn the same thing.”

“Aha, the ‘maybe you should’ has already been used twice, which means you need to come up with something new!” Dimitri mocked. “Try again!”

Gleb’s glare was borderline hilarious.

Then he returned back to whatever stupid thing he was doing before and left Dimitri alone.

 _Good,_ though Dimitri.

Dimitri did actually sit upright when someone new entered the Men’s Room.

The Crown Prince Alexei Romanov.

He was… smaller, than Dimitri had thought.

“Good evening, gentlemen!” the young prince exclaimed in a joyful tone.

No one could respond. They were in the company of the future king of Illéa. It was kind of mind-blowing, for Dimitri, at least.

Alexei moved to one corner of the room and continued to address them. “I want to get to know all of you a little bit before my sister gets the chance. How about we start with Leonid Petrov of Allens?”

The crown prince spoke to each of the selected for a few minutes, slowly making his way through the thirty-five.

Dimitri found himself enjoying watching the young prince. The way his little legs dangled off the edge of the seat and didn’t quite reach the floor, the way his entire face seemed to light up when he smiled.

Based on the short time Dimitri spent watching him, Alexei would certainly make a great king when he was older.

Eventually, it was Dimitri’s turn to talk to him.

“You’re Dimitri, right?”

Dimitri nodded. “What do you want me to call you?”

He seemed to consider. “No one’s actually asked me that before. Everyone always goes with ‘your highness’ or something like that. I… I think just ‘Alexei’ will work.”

“If you want me to call you Alexei, I certainly will,” Dimitri promised.

Alexei nodded, his expression seeming to glow.

“Now, what makes you think you’re good enough to date my sister?”

Dimitri couldn’t help but laughing. “Truthfully, I don’t. Your sister is a princess. I’m not good enough for a princess.”

“That’s the right answer.”

Dimitri talked with Alexei for a few more minutes before Alexei had to talk with the next of the selected.

Even if he hadn’t met the princess yet, Dimitri was already attached to the crown prince.

Maybe, if the Princess Anastasia was at all like her younger brother, this wouldn’t be so bad.

* * *

Anastasia took a deep breath the next morning as she prepared herself to meet all thirty-five suitors. She already knew a lot about all of them, but facts and bios didn’t really show _who_ they really were.

She was excited, at least a little bit, to get to know more people, but the reasons for it stressed her out more than she cared to admit.

Anastasia breathed in deeply and slowly, trying to calm her pounding heart before she was allowed in the Men’s Room to meet with them all.

Just before entering, Anastasia managed to resume her usual public image. She hoped that—eventually—she’d be able to let this façade of hers crumble and show who she really was, but she wasn’t ready for that. Not today.

She was greeted with a completely silent room, all thirty-five men staring at her.

And immediately, she wanted to back out again.

Instead, she took another deep breath and began.

“I’m looking forward to getting to know each of you.” She hoped that she sounded cheerful. Cheerful enough, at least. “I hope to speak to all of you briefly before breakfast, but there is quite a lot of you, so it might take a while. Please be patient. I promise that I’ll get to each of you.”

She spoke with Leonid Petrov of Allens first. He was nice enough, but Anastasia didn’t think they really ‘hit it off’ very well. Then she spoke to Nicholai Vasiliev of Angeles, who was fun to talk to. Anastasia remembered that Viktor Mikhailov of Atlin was the person that Alexei was looking forward to meeting, as a movie star. He was surprising genuine and nice. Anastasia hadn’t expected it from him, but she enjoyed it. Viktor was certainly one of the top options out of the earliest ones she spoke to.

Anastasia slowly made her way through each of the selected. There were a couple that felt so jarring _wrong_ that Anastasia could hardly bear to speak to them any longer. Although she felt bad, those few would be dismissed soon.

Maybe not today. She didn’t want to dismiss anyone on the first day. That felt… cruel.

Anastasia eventually made it to Dimitri Popov of Hansport, who she remembered clearly because of the footage of him leaving his province.

The ‘lost puppy’ look had completely disappeared from him, it seemed, replaced by a laid-back air. He certainly cleaned up well. Just by the look, he was certainly one of the fairer of the lower castes, though each person certainly had charm in their own way.

“Why did you apply for the selection, Dimitri? Oh, can I call you that?”

Dimitri nodded. “It’s not like I could refuse.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”

Dimitri didn’t respond this time, so Anastasia repeated her first question instead.

“Why did you apply for the selection?”

He shrugged again. “I felt like it. Didn’t actually think I’d get this far.”

“So what you’re saying is that you don’t want to be here?” That wasn’t something she’d expected from any of the selected.

Dimitri shrugged yet again. “I never said that. I mean, I like being here. I just never thought I’d get this far.”

“So you signed up on a whim and didn’t think of the consequences?”

He shrugged. He seemed to like doing that.

“This selection is an important event, Mr. Popov. This whole competition determines my future. I relied on people like you to take it seriously.”

She dismissed him and called for the next of the men.

Anastasia had to admit that after speaking with Dimitri she was in a bad mood. She was starting to rethink her ‘don’t dismiss anyone on the first day’ idea.

Then she came upon another name that she remembered slightly more clearly from the footage of the day before. Gleb Vaganov of Lakedon. She asked the same questions as she had for all the others and he gave her legitimate answers, but she could tell already that they weren’t real.

During the whole time they spoke, Gleb seemed uncertain and nervous, which was different from how he seemed in other footage. Sure, he’d looked nervous when leaving his province, but when it came to him arriving at the palace, he had looked strict and cold.

Now, he was barely able to get an answer out for every question she asked.

She dismissed him to speak to the next one rather quickly, too.

Eventually, she made it through the entire group and they could all (finally) head to breakfast.

She was starving, but she also doubted that she’d be able to eat anything at all.

Her only solace was Alexei, as usual. They sat beside each other at meals, which Anastasia was incredibly grateful for.

Alexei had a talent for making people feel better, no matter the situation.

“What do you think of the selected, Alexei?” she figured that he hadn’t really had enough time to get to know them—certainly not more than her!—but Alexei also had a talent for judging people’s character without needing to spend a lot of time with them.

“I liked a lot of them,” he answered quickly. “Viktor was fun and nice.”

“Who was your favorite?”

He replied without hesitation. “Dimitri.”

That was not the response she expected.

“He’s your _favorite_?”

Alexei nodded as if it was nothing.

“Why? How?”

“He was nice,” Alexei said simply.

Anastasia looked up, glancing around the dining room until she found Dimitri, who from the look of it, had been looking up at her, but he looked back down at his plate when she saw him.

Maybe she’d give him another chance, if Alexei seemed to like him so much.


	6. Chapter 6

Gleb found himself having a difficult time breathing. He’d seen the princess before, on the weekly report, and yeah, he’d always known she was beautiful, but he never expected himself to have such a reaction at all, even more so to her.

It felt out of character for him to be so… so incredibly, embarrassingly awkward. He wasn’t like that, not usually. Why was he acting like it now, around the princess?

He felt so embarrassed. He’d made a complete and utter fool out of himself on his first meeting with her. There was no way he’d be able to win back his dignity after that.

Gleb was certain he’d be sent home by the end of the day.

Which was what he wanted, right? He wanted to go back home and live out his life as he planned it.

Why was he starting to dread the possibility of being sent home? Especially so quickly?

By breakfast the next day, Gleb fully expected to be on his way back to Lakedon.

What he didn’t expect was to not only still be there, but not a single person sent home.

And then the next morning—even after not having met with the princess again, he was still there, but this time, with _five_ contestants being sent home already. Most of them Twos and Threes.

Iosif Ivanov of Clermont, a Two, had been sent home, with Pavel Belyaev of Calgary, a Three, Taras Semenov of Fennley, a Two, Alyosha Kuznetsov of Paloma, a Two, and Kir Babanin of Sumner, a Two.

Which brought the current total of contestants to thirty, and only 27% were Twos.

Gleb wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. It seemed the princess was getting rid of a lot of the higher castes, which meant, if she continued this pattern, Gleb would be out rather quickly.

Which… was okay.

Gleb had started to come to terms with the fact that maybe… just maybe, he didn’t really want to leave. Not anymore.

Of course, there were still _some things_ that he wished he could get away from.

Such as the fact that Dimitri was not only still in the competition, but they sat across from each other in the dining room _and_ their rooms were down the same hall.

It seemed that no matter how hard Gleb tried, he couldn’t avoid Dimitri.

And if Gleb hated the man before, that was nothing compared to what he felt now.

* * *

Dimitri lasted much longer that he would have thought. He would have thought he’d be dismissed and on his way back home within a day or two.

Now, instead, he was being prepared for the report later today.

And needless to say, he felt incredibly anxious because of it.

No one else had been sent home after the original five, which made sense, based on the lack of time the princess had spent with them. Since that first day—or technically second day, but first full day—Dimitri had not had another chance to speak to the princess, but he did manage to speak with Alexei a couple times. The more they hung out, the more Dimitri liked Alexei.

Anastasia had barely spent time with any of them in the past week, save for meals and a few other group activities. Without any other excuse, Dimitri was starting to think she was avoiding them.

How on Earth had he already been here for a week?

And even more importantly, how much lunger would he be staying?

It certainly wouldn’t be long. He already knew that the princess hated him, and he’d nearly gotten into fights with many of the other selected, none of which had anything to do with the selection itself.

Just stupid people.

And more than any other, Gleb Vaganov. Dimitri had gotten into quite a few verbal arguments with him, and had been mere moments away from at least one physical fight, which Dimitri wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to win, anyway.

But it wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

Everyone needed to learn not to underestimate or undervalue the people from lower castes, and Dimitri was more than willing to teach such a lesson. In fact, he was ecstatic to teach such a lesson.

Some people had a harder time learning that lesson, and unfortunately, many of them were members of the selection.

Well, Dimitri had to do his job. If it got him kicked out, okay then.

Dimitri wasn’t entirely sure how he got to thinking about this on the morning before he’d first show up on the report. His mind kind of went all sorts of places when he was stressed, and he was incredibly stressed at the moment.

They had all been told arrive ten minutes early. For Dimitri, that meant seven, at most.

It ended up being about five minutes.

Most of the seats were already taken, especially the ones in the first couple rows.

Which meant Dimitri had to take a seat in the back.

Unfortunately, he was the last one there, and there was only one seat left.

Right beside his worst enemy.

Great.

Dimitri sat down in the one remaining seat, not even glancing over at any of the others, and waited for the report to start.

It began with the King’s announcements, which were few, Maxim was walking on the set after being introduced.

“Good evening, everyone,” he greeted in his usual charming fashion.

* * *

Anastasia tried to calm her nerves as Maxim spoke about the selection. He announced that five of the men had been sent home, and that they were now left with thirty.

As far as she knew, all that Anastasia had to do today was sit there and ‘look pretty.’

Her eyes opened wide when she heard Maxim say, “But before we get to the remaining contestants, let’s take a moment to speak with the lucky lady. How are you tonight, Princess Anastasia?”

She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, but she managed to gain control over herself in order to respond.

“I’m doing quite well, thank you Maxim.”

“Are you enjoying your new company so far?”

_Not really._

“It’s been very enjoyable to start getting to know all these young men.”

“Are they all just as much of a pleasure as they seem?”

Anastasia hesitated before she answered.

“Well, you can’t expect me to know all thirty really well within a week!” was her response.

Thankfully, Maxim laughed. “Truth, spoken here! Well, how about we get to meeting these young men ourselves, and then maybe the princess can determine if they all are such a pleasure to be around!”

Anastasia was glad when the cameras moved on from her to each of the selected. She relaxed in her seat, but only managed to fully relax after the filming finished completely.

She closed her eyes, not quite wanting to move from her seat.

The ridiculous dress she was wearing also added to that. She could hardly breathe, but she was mostly used to it.

She encouraged others to go on without her, and that she’d catch up later.

Then the room was quiet and rather dark. She was alone.

_Finally._

Anastasia let out a long and heavy sigh. She was incredibly thankful for moments like these, when she was alone.

When she could breathe, when she could be herself.

But, unfortunately, that moment had to end.

She stood up from her seat, wobbling slightly at the blood rushing to her head, took a moment to steady herself, then walked out toward the dining room.

“You do that often?” she heard a mocking voice say from behind her.

Anastasia turned around to see Dimitri standing there, leaning against a wall.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s it to you?”

Dimitri grinned. “You’re a lot more feisty than you appear.”

“Why does that matter to you? Aren’t you supposed to be at dinner?”

“Aren’t you?”

“I’m not hungry,” was her response. She wasn’t usually hungry after filming the report each week. If Dimitri wanted to confirm that, he could ask literally anyone in the palace. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be going up to my room.”

She started to walk past him, but she was stopped when he grabbed her wrist.

Anastasia couldn’t help letting out a small gasp of surprise as she pulled her arm away.

“I could get you kicked out for that,” she reminded him.

Dimitri shrugged. “Then why don’t you?”

“I haven’t decided if I want to yet.”

“And why do you hesitate?”

She sighed. “My brother seems to like you. I have yet to determine why, but I usually trust his judgement.”

“So the only reason I’m still here is because of your little brother? Not because of you, at all?”

“I’m still trying to figure out how you bribed him into liking you. You don’t seem like the type of person he’d usually take to.”

“What, you think I’m not a likable person? That hurts, princess.”

“As it should.”

This time, as Anastasia went on her way, Dimitri didn’t stop her.

When she finally made it back to her room, she collapsed onto her bed, desperately not wanting to move, but also not wanting to go to sleep in this tight-fitting, extravagant dress.

The dress itself was pretty; it would be a shame that she wouldn’t wear it again, but a princess didn’t reuse outfits like that. She was hardly allowed to reuse and of her outfits at all.

She did manage to stand up again when her maids came in to help her undress and prepare for bed, but she was half-asleep the entire time, barely even noticing when she was at last laid down to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gleb is already a lovesick fool. that certainly didn't take long


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i forget to post a chapter on Tuesday? apparently i did. sorry! I'll post two today
> 
> tw: abuse
> 
> (there's not really a lot, but it's there)

Gleb couldn’t help but notice Dimitri’s smug grin the next morning. Part of him wanted to ask what had caused it, but the rest of him—likely the more sensible part—decided against it.

Whatever it was that got Dimitri all smug and happy like he was, Gleb really didn’t care.

Gleb couldn’t wait until Dimitri was sent home. With the way he’d behaved in just the past week, it certainly wouldn’t be too long.

Was it rude to wish that Dimitri would leave? Yes. Did it mean Gleb would stop? Absolutely not.

Most of the day, Gleb spent in the Men’s Room, as was expected of him. He was still trying to relax after filming the report yesterday, finding that appearing on TV was not as simple or easy as it looked.

Gleb dreaded the idea of going on again. It made him reconsider once again on whether he wanted to stay, but decided that for now, he wanted to remain.

That was subject to change in the future, just like everything else.

Gleb sort of hated just how much his life could change in an instant, but he felt he might be starting to get used to it.

It was a couple days later when anything changed, and this time, for the better, Gleb assumed.

Up to this point, the princess had only met with any of them in group settings, now, it seemed she was starting to meet with them privately.

The first couple of days, she met with Viktor Mikhailov of Atlin, Two, Maskim Lenkov of Columbia, Five, Fedor Smirnoff of Hudson, Four, and Shura Vasiliev of Midston, Three.

She seemed to be making her way through each of them before going with one person twice.

By the end of the week, she’d met with at least half of them privately, and dismissed four more of them, Timur Stepanov of Labrador, Four, Slava Morozov of Honduragua, Three, Olzeka Nikitin of Belcourt, Two, and Evgeni Orlov of Sonage, Two.

Which brought them down to 26, only 23% of them being Twos, meanwhile, all four of the original Fives were still in.

Gleb tried to puzzle out what that might mean, but came up with nothing in the end.

He might need a bit more information before trying to come up with a reason behind her actions.

* * *

Once again, Anastasia found herself hating just about everything. She’d been forced to interact with some of the selected more, as the public was hungry for _something._ She’d managed to settle for meeting with each of the selected privately, but she knew even that wouldn’t appease them for long.

The public wanted _development._ They wanted something _exciting._ Something that Anastasia wasn’t willing to give them. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Why did it never matter what _she_ wanted, and instead her every action was determined by the public? Why did this have to be her life?

Right now, Anastasia didn’t want to get married. She figured that she would want it, eventually, but not right now. Not with any of the people she’d met with. It didn’t feel right.

No, what she really wanted right now, more than anything, was a friend.

Alexei was her only friend for the moment, and she loved him, a lot, but sometimes having your little brother as your only friend still became lonely and tiresome.

Sure, she was close with her sisters, at least, she used to be, until they all were married off and moved away. Now, she hardly ever got to see them.

It was lonely, but it was her life.

Oh, how she wished it could change.

Maybe she did want marriage, Anastasia considered, and maybe one of these men could be it for her, but she didn’t want it unless she gained a friend, rather than just a partner.

That was all she really wanted. A friend. Was that too much to ask for?

Anastasia was considering her dilemma as she walked around the palace with no set destination in mind. She was wandering, just as much as her mind was.

And then suddenly, she felt someone grab her hand and pin her against the wall behind her.

Her heart began to race as she looked up to see who had done this to her.

It was certainly one of the selected, but it took her a moment to match the name to the face, mostly because her thinking was clouded with fear.

Ruslan Balabanov of Zuni, Two.

“Hello, princess,” he sneered.

“Get away from me,” she hissed.

He only laughed it off, his grip on her wrist only tightening, so much that she just about lost feeling in her hand entirely.

He looked to be about to make another horrible comment when Anastasia used the heels she had to wear and slammed her heel into his foot, which gave her enough time to get away and alert the nearest guards.

Within two minutes, he was gone from the palace grounds.

And then, they were down to twenty-five.

Anastasia’s heart was still racing as she found her way into her mother’s comforting arms.

Her mother softly stroked her hair, whispering to her, but Anastasia wasn’t really listening.

She’d always known that this sort of thing was likely to happen. As a female, and as a princess, no less, there were countless people in the country that would stop at nothing to get ahold of her in some way, and that appeared to be one of them.

She was desired, but not in the way that she would have preferred. This… this was horrible. Horrible and terrifying.

Was this what the rest of her life would be like, now that she was of age?

She wanted out.

The only comfort that this experience brought her was that she knew she could take care of herself, at least to an extent. When worse came to worse, she could defend herself.

This experience would most certainly be reported to the remaining of the selected. They’d hear of just what would happen were they to seek her out on their own, or even worse, try something like that. Hopefully, that would mean that none of the others would try anything, but she couldn’t be sure of that.

She couldn’t really be sure of anything anymore. Not even her safety within her home.

Part of her wanted to scream, part of her wanted to cry, the rest of her wanted this whole event to be over.

She just wanted a normal life, and a friend. Just a friend.

Was that too much to ask?

* * *

Dimitri was thoroughly shaken after having heard what happened to cause Ruslan to be dismissed.

Most all these guys seemed nice enough, and there wasn’t a single one that Dimitri would have predicted they’d try something like… that.

But he supposed that they were capable of faking.

Now, as he surveyed the room again, even more critically than usual, Dimitri couldn’t help but wonder how many of them were faking, just until they could get close enough to the princess?

How many of these people wanted to use and abuse her, just because she was royalty?

It made Dimitri sick.

Maybe Dimitri didn’t like the princess a lot—that might have been a bit of an understatement—but he would _never_ consider doing something like that. No matter the person, if she was royalty or of his own caste.

He still had to keep reminding himself that he wasn’t an Eight, he was a Three.

It felt like a lie, just like everything that had gotten him this far.

Even if he was officially a Three now, Dimitri wondered if that could change, were people to find out he’d lied on the application form. Would he have to go back to his life as an Eight?

Dimitri wanted to deny the fear that the thought struck into him. He didn’t want to go back to his life before, now that he’d grown so far from it.

He supposed that he would just have to keep this a secret until he died.

After that event, Anastasia didn’t meet privately with any of them for another couple of days. Dimitri didn’t blame her. After what happened, if he was in her place, he would have sent everyone home and called the whole thing off.

The princess seemed to be stronger than Dimitri had originally thought.

Dimitri was talking with Alexei in the Men’s Room later that week, and he spontaneously said, “Tell me about your sister.”

Alexei looked up at him. “What about?”

Dimitri shrugged. “Anything you like.”

“Is this just to help you get ahead of the other selected?”

Dimitri had to admit, he was a very clever kid.

“No,” Dimitri shook his head. “Can you keep a secret?”

Alexei nodded enthusiastically.

“I’m not really all that interested. Not like the others are. They want her in… other ways. I’m just starting to want to get to know her. Y’know? Like… like a…”

“A friend?”

Dimitri nodded. “Like a friend.”

“Nastya always wanted a friend,” Alexei said softly, his gaze turning back away from Dimitri. “I’m her best friend, and since Maria left after Tatiana and Olga, it’s kind of just been the two of us, plus Mama and Papa, but they’re busy a lot.”

“She doesn’t want this, does she?”

Alexei shook his head. “She never wanted a selection, but it was her only other option, since she didn’t want to marry into a different royal family. I think she wants to quit, but she can’t.”

“So she’s trapped in this, in something she doesn’t want?”

Alexei nodded.

“Hm,” Dimitri said thoughtfully, deciding not to continue the conversation, mostly because he needed time to process.

Maybe… maybe if he could finally do something right, he might be able to make a difference for a lonely princess.

* * *

It took Anastasia far too long to gather the courage to continue meeting with any of the men privately.

When she finally began again, she started working through them all slowly.

Soon enough, she’d met with almost all of them, having dismissed three more (Kliment Zaitsev of Tammins, Four, Osip Golubev of Waverly, Four, and Feliks Novikov of St. George, Two.)

Now there were only two that she hadn’t met with privately. Gleb Vaganov of Lakedon, Two, and Dimitri Popov of Hansport, Four.

Despite Alexei’s insistence that Dimitri wasn’t the person that Anastasia had seen when they first talked, she didn’t want to meet with him yet.

So that left Gleb.

They ended up just walking around the castle, talking. Anastasia ended up doing most of the talking, which wasn’t exactly a strange occurrence.

By the time that was over, she got the feeling that there was more to Gleb than what she had seen. He seemed to be hiding quite a lot, whether by on purpose or by accident.

Anastasia thought she’d try another private meeting (she refused to call them ‘dates’) with him in the near future.

But first, she had to meet with one final person.

A person that only stayed in because Alexei liked him.

She had to meet with Dimitri.

This was going to be _fun._

Just later that day, Anastasia found herself walking through an empty part of the castle, alone with Dimitri.

She enjoyed taking a walk just to be able to speak to someone more than doing a different activity. Especially at this early point, when she didn’t know any of them very well.

It was much better to talk and learn things in the beginning than to never learn them at all.

Dimitri met her where she’d decided, earlier than she would have expected him to arrive.

“I still can’t figure out why my brother likes you,” she remarked after a minute or two of silence.

“Maybe because he isn’t so quick to judge.”

“Or maybe because he’s young and delusional.”

Dimitri glanced at her, letting out a soft chuckle. “I don’t think he’s the delusional one.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Why don’t you figure it out for yourself?”

Anastasia had to refrain from punching him in the arm.

“Tell you what, princess—”

“Stop calling me ‘princess.’”

“But aren’t you a princess?”

“Yeah, but the way you make you say it makes it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

“Isn’t it?”

Now she had to work really hard to keep from punching him in the arm.

“Not unless you make it a bad thing.”

Dimitri laughed. “Then what would you like me to call you?”

That was not something she’d ever been asked before.

“I’ll tell you in a minute. What were you going to say?”

“Oh, I… I was going to make a deal with you.”

That sounded interesting.

They sat down on a bench in the hall while Dimitri continued to explain his idea.

“No offence, but I’m not really interested.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not looking for romance. Don’t need it. What I do need, on the other hand, is to stay here. So I’ll make you a deal. I get to stay here, at the palace, for a while, and you don’t need to worry about one of your options. Though let’s be honest, I don’t know how you could resist me.”

Anastasia rolled her eyes. “What do I get in exchange?”

“A friend.”

Of anything he could have said, that was not something that she could have expected.

“Excuse me?”

“I talked to your brother. He told me about you. I know that you don’t want a selection. You just want a friend. I am offering myself.”

Anastasia stared at him for a moment, not quite sure how to respond, then she burst out laughing, doubling over.

“You?”

Dimitri looked offended. “What’s so bad about that?”

“You don’t seem the type.”

“The type for what?”

“To be friendly.”

He seemed to be stumped after that. Eventually, he said, “How can I prove to you that I’m being sincere?”

She leaned in closer to him to whisper, “Tell me something, a secret. Something that you haven’t told anyone else.”

He seemed to hesitate. “What if… what if it’s something that I haven’t told anyone here, but people back home know?”

She considered. “Depends. Tell me anyway, and I’ll see if it’s good enough.”

He stopped, before whispering again, “I’m not a Four. Never was, either. I’m and Eight.”

Anastasia leaned back away, considering what he’d just told her.

So he lied, in order to get into the selection.

And he didn’t even really want to be here, either.

No, that wasn’t right. He wanted to be here, what he didn’t want was _her._

That wasn’t bad though, right?

“Is that enough of a secret for you?”

“Not quite. Tell me why you really entered into the selection.”

He hesitated again. “Spite, mostly. It wasn’t fair. Everyone else, even the Sevens got the chance to apply. But not me. Y’know, the only reason I was an Eight was because my parents were. I wasn’t even given a chance, for anything. I guess… I guess I just wanted to prove that I could do just as much, if not more, than those in higher castes than I.”

Now she kind of felt bad. She didn’t know that Eights didn’t even get the chance to apply.

She guessed she didn’t really know a lot of how Illéa worked.

But she wanted to learn.

Anastasia reached out her hand. “Well, Dimitri Popov—”

“Sundayev.”

“What?”

“My name. It’s Dimitri Sundayev.”

“Oh.” She took his hand and tried again. “Well, Dimitri Sundayev, I think I might just give you a chance.”

Now what?

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Dimitri. “I’ve told you three things about myself that no one here knows. You required one.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to know something about you. A secret. Just one.”

She racked her brain, trying to come up with something.

“I don’t really like being called ‘Anastasia,’” she decided on. “And I don’t like it when you call me ‘princess,’ either.”

“Then what would you like me to call you? As a friend?”

“Well, my family and maids call me ‘Nastya,’ but I’ve always liked the name ‘Anya.’”

“Anya,” he tried out the word on his tongue. “I think it fits.”

“But, in public, when others can hear, maybe stick to ‘Anastasia?’”

He nodded. “Got it, Anya.”

She could feel her heart skip a beat at being called that.

She found that she rather liked having a friend.

* * *

Gleb hadn’t meant to overhear that conversation. He really hadn’t, it had just sort-of happened.

He’d just been minding his own business, walking along through the palace—yeah maybe he wasn’t supposed to have been on his own like he was, but that was too late now—when he heard them.

Gleb had meant to move on, to stop listening, but then he heard something. Something that Gleb only could describe as ‘interesting.’

“I’m not a Four. Never was, either. I’m and Eight.”

Gleb stopped in his tracks.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to be listening, but Gleb found himself not capable of moving from his spot.

He kept listening.

“Is that enough of a secret for you?” Dimitri eventually resumed.

“Not quite,” said Anastasia. “Tell me why you really entered into the selection.”

“Spite, mostly. It wasn’t fair. Everyone else, even the Sevens got the chance to apply. But not me. Y’know, the only reason I was an Eight was because my parents were. I wasn’t even given a chance, for anything. I guess… I guess I just wanted to prove that I could do just as much, if not more, than those in higher castes than I.”

So he wasn’t here for the princess at all.

And he was here for spite instead?

“Well, Dimitri Popov—” Anastasia eventually began again.

“Sundayev.”

“What?”

“My name. It’s Dimitri Sundayev.”

“Oh. Well, Dimitri Sundayev, I think I might just give you a chance.”

And with that, Gleb managed to bring himself to move again.

Well, if Dimitri wasn’t here for the princess, he didn’t deserve to be here at all.

And if the princess wasn’t going to dismiss him, then Gleb might just find a way to get Dimitri forced out in another way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gleb you creepy stalker person


	8. Chapter 8

Dimitri found himself feeling much lighter after finally telling _someone_ about who he really was.

Sure, it was a bit strange that the person he managed to confide in was the princess herself, but whatever worked, he guessed.

Dimitri grew more comfortable in the palace, sinking into an easy friendship with both Alexei and Anya—he’d begun to refer to her as ‘Anya’ even in his head. The name certainly seemed to fit her better than ‘Anastasia,’ at least, the real her. Not the one the public saw. The one that _he_ saw.

The person that laughed, cried (though he didn’t see that often), and wouldn’t hold back when it came to picking a fight.

Even after only another week or two since they actually became friends, Dimitri felt as if he’d known Anya for his whole life.

As Dimitri grew more comfortable in the changes his life had made, he could see the rest of the selected hardening toward him.

Because he’d been spending more and more time with the princess, he was sure.

They were jealous.

Oh, how little they knew.

Dimitri was roused from his thoughts when the whole palace seemed to shake. He looked up somewhat frantically to see others running into the room. Namely, the entire royal family.

“Move to the back of the room,” the king demanded, all of the selected doing as he said and clearing a path. He went to the window and pulled down a sheet of metal, the queen doing it beside him, Anya doing another.

“What’s going on?” Dimitri asked as he passed Anya, echoing her movements to pull down another sheet of metal over the window.

“Rebels,” she whispered. “Bolsheviks. They attack the palace often. Usually no one is harmed…”

“But?” he prodded.

“But once in a while, people do get hurt and killed. I think they’re getting stronger, preparing for a massacre. I don’t know how much longer it will be until then.”

“So we’d all best prepare ourselves,” Dimitri mumbled, mostly to himself. After a minute, he leaned back over and whispered, “Are you watching to see how people react? It might help you to narrow down who could even handle being part of the royal family.”

She nodded. “I… I don’t want to judge people on the first attack. It certainly comes as a bit of a shock, but I am keeping track.”

Dimitri nodded.

“Why are you so calm?” She looked up at him.

Dimitri shrugged. “I’m used to constant danger. This is certainly a bit… different, from usual, but I might just feel at home when my life is being threatened.”

She shook her head and grinned. “You’re an odd one, Dimitri.”

“As are you, princess.”

The Bolsheviks seemed to clear away quickly, and soon the palace returned to normal. A couple others were dismissed, and as Anya told him later, by their own request.

After the first attack, Dimitri found his own life around the palace getting harder and harder. Wherever he walked, someone would knock into him—hard—as they passed. He heard whispers about him behind his back.

He tried not to let it bother him, but he hated to admit that it was starting to. A lot.

Dimitri could tell that there was someone, one of the selected, who had gotten all the others to hate him as well.

And his bets were on Gleb Vaganov.

* * *

“Nastya, dear,” her mother called after breakfast one day, before Anya was going to start most of the day’s work.

“Yes, mama?” she asked, coming over to see what was the matter.

“I’m afraid that the public is not satisfied with how you have progressed in the selection.”

She had to refrain from rolling her eyes. Was dismissing—she quickly ran the numbers through her head—fifteen people not enough? She was down to twenty, and just over two months, that was pretty good, in her opinion.

“It’s not enough.”

“What don’t they like? Should I dismiss more, less, what can I do?”

Her mother sighed. “You know what it is they want.”

She did. And she felt disgusted by it. “I’m not going to fake a romance just for the public who doesn’t even know who I am.”

“Then don’t fake one, Nastya. _Find_ one.”

She was in a rather bitter mood later that day, and it only got worse when she realized that there were cameras roaming around the palace today.

Yes, she’d known about it. She always knew about it beforehand, but it must have slipped her mind recently.

And she was _really_ not in the mood right now.

Or ever.

Anya hated cameras. The ones used to film the report were bad enough, but at least with those, she was prepared. She knew where they were and she knew what was going to happen.

With these ones, she never could predict just where they all were. There were so many, and she feared that she might screw up majorly in front of one. She was afraid she might show just who she really was to the public. That would be bad.

It would be so, so bad.

She was fuming. She only hoped that it wasn’t visible.

On her way to the Men’s Room, Anya managed to come across Dimitri. Thank goodness. That saved her from needing to interact with others when she felt mere moments from exploding completely.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, glancing around nervously for any sign of cameras. “Privately.”

“What for-oh.”

She dragged him into the nearest room, which turned out to be a closet, but right now, she didn’t much care.

“I have to ask something of you, and I know just what you’re going to say, but please, hear me out.”

He motioned as if to say, ‘go ahead.’

Anya took a deep breath and blurted out, “I need you to kiss me.”

“Wait, what?”

“The public,” she spat, “is not happy with my progress in the selection. They want… more. They want me to get close with someone. They want me to get intimate. Kissing is about as far as I’m willing to go.”

“Okay.”

“I know it sounds terrible and it’s not at all what we agreed to—wait, what did you say?”

“I said I’ll do it.”

“You will?”

He nodded. “I’m guessing you don’t want it to happen in here, though.”

She shook her head. “That would kind of defeat the purpose.”

“Tonight, then? After dinner?”

“That would be great,” she agreed. “I’ll find out where cameras are, so that we make sure it’s not for nothing.”

“Got it,” said Dimitri as he started to open the door of the closet and leave.

“And Dimitri?”

“Yes, princess?” he teased—since now they could be within earshot, he refrained from calling her ‘Anya.’

“Thank you.”

Now she just needed to find out a way to stop her heart from pounding.

After dinner, she and Dimitri found a more ‘private’ spot where a camera just so happened to be.

They talked up to that point, walking along the palace until they reached the spot, where they stopped.

She turned to look at Dimitri, who was mumbling something that she couldn’t quite catch. Her heart was racing, but her mind had slowed.

She could feel one of Dimitri’s hands on her back, the other on her waist as she reached up for him, not entirely sure why it felt so much harder now than before.

When it… when the kiss finally happened, Anya felt as if time stopped.

Dimitri’s lips were soft—softer than she’d imagined, not that she actually _wondered_ about it before—and warm. And slightly sweet, she found.

The kiss was over quickly, but it felt like forever to Anya.

They parted, Dimitri going into his own room then, and Anya returning to hers.

It was just a kiss. They’d only done it to appease the public.

Why did Anya suddenly have this warm, fuzzy feeling inside?

* * *

It didn’t take long for the rest of the selected to find out about the kiss, it seemed, because they all seemed to know the very next day.

Which didn’t exactly help Dimitri’s relationship with them.

Quite the opposite, in face.

Dimitri expected this when he agreed to help Anya appease the public. It seemed to work, at least for a little while.

For some reason, Dimitri could feel himself looking forward to the time when the public demanded more, and that same part of him hoped that Anya would come to him for help again.

But why?

They were friends. Dimitri wasn’t interested in romance. Why did he enjoy last night so much?

Dimitri didn’t have time to dwell on it, because the palace began to shake again.

Another attack.

They’d been happening every couple of weeks since the first one. Most of the selected were starting to handle them better, but Dimitri could tell that most of them were still bothered by it. They just didn’t show it.

Starting that week, Bolshevik attacks happened much more frequently. Twice as much. Weekly, now.

Tensions were high. Very high.

Even if all the other selected hated him, he didn’t mind. Not anymore. He was secure in where he was, and their opinions didn’t matter.

What did matter, on the other hand, was what Dimitri heard someone say under their breath.

“Sundayev.”

Dimitri’s head snapped up. How could someone know that? How could someone here know his name, someone besides Anya?

He looked around to find out just who knew him.

Ah. He should have known.

Gleb.

“Mind if we talk alone, Sundayev?” Gleb practically sneered.

Dimitri stood up. He didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter. He allowed Gleb to lead him to somewhere private before he said, or growled, “How do you know my name?”

“You weren’t exactly somewhere private when you told the princess. I know who you are, Sundayev, and you can’t do anything about it.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you gone.”

Dimitri crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, that is something I won’t do.”

Gleb shrugged. “Then I guess I’ll just have to inform everyone of who you really are. It’s only fair, you know.”

He began to leave, but Dimitri caught his wrist. Gleb turned back to him.

Dimitri couldn’t let others find out about him. If they did, he’d go back to being an Eight. If he left for some other reason, he’d still be a Three.

But he couldn’t leave, either. Not when Anya might still need him.

“Reconsidering, Sundayev?”

Dimitri wasn’t entirely sure what came over him to cause him to do what he did next.

Anya wasn’t sure what had happened, but she soon found herself put directly on the spot.

She found Dimitri and Gleb, both injured and still glaring at each other, standing in front of her. They’d gotten into a fight and it turned physical. She wasn’t sure what had caused it yet.

Now she had to decide what she was going to do. She should just send them both home. The stunt they pulled was against the rules.

Anya hated to think it, but if it was anyone else, she would have dismissed them without a second thought.

But this was Dimitri. He was her friend, and it didn’t seem fair to let Dimitri stay and have Gleb leave.

Besides, something inside her felt that maybe, maybe she didn’t want Gleb to leave either.

She had to let them both stay.

“Tensions have been high,” she began when she was asked to make a decision. “We’ve all been stressed. I’m that it was just uneasiness working its way in. I’m also sure it will not happen again.” She looked to them both when saying that.

“You wish for them to stay?”

She nodded. “I do.”

It looked like many people wanted to protest her decisions. “I am in charge of who I dismiss and who I desire to keep here. Not any of you. If you have an issue, you can take it up with me privately. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.”

Then she stormed out.

Anya could hardly believe what had happened. She’d have to talk to Dimitri later, to figure out what all had happened, and probably Gleb too, just to get both sides of the story.

And she was already dreading it.

Part of her wanted to send everyone home and call the whole selection off. It would make all these people safer, to be away from the castle and the dangers it brought, the rest of her didn’t want to lose her only friend.

But she would have to, eventually, wouldn’t she? When this whole selection thing was over, everyone would be sent home, except for the one person that she would marry.

There was always a way to keep Dimitri close, but it wasn’t what either of them wanted.

Then why didn’t the idea sound all that terrible to her?

All Anya knew was that she had a lot to work out.

* * *

“Gleb?” Anastasia’s voice called to him. “Can we talk privately?”

He felt his heart racing as she led him to a private hallway.

“I want to hear it from you before I ask Dimitri. What caused that fight?”

He should have known it would be about that, because there was no way she would ever seek him out for anything else.

Gleb let out a breath. How was he going to say this, to her?

He decided to be truthful. “I know who Dimitri really is, and I know his kind. He’s using you, to stay out of the streets. You know his history, but you don’t know what he’s like.”

She rolled her eyes at that. “Dimitri is a friend. I don’t have many of those. If you want to remain here, you’d best not be picking fights.”

“Do you think he’d really want to be your friend if it weren’t for your ability to set him up for the rest of his life? He is using you.”

“Dimitri is not ‘using me’ like you say. He was in a bad situation, and yes, I’m helping him to stay out of it. He wouldn’t even be here at all if I wasn’t the princess. None of you would be.”

“But—”

“I’d recommend you try to get along. I don’t know if I can excuse another fight.”

And then she was gone.

That went horribly.

But maybe she was right. As much as Gleb wanted Dimitri gone, he wanted to stay more.

Somehow, Dimitri would take care of himself, and then he’d be gone.

Until then, Gleb had to do as the princess said.

He had to try to get along.

Gleb shuddered at the thought.

It sounded like torture.

As more time passed, rebel attacks became worse, and even slightly more frequent. It became very dangerous to keep people in the palace, even more than it had been before. That was only a few months into the selection.

And then the princess decreed “I’m going to announce the Elite.”

* * *

It took her a long time to come to that conclusion, and it took her even longer to decide who was going to stay.

A few were obvious, some were harder. She managed to keep a few of the country’s favorites in the ten, because there were only a few that she really found herself caring about more than the others.

All the 20 that had remained for the longest so far were dear to her heart. Dismissing 10 was going to be difficult, but there were certainly a few that she felt more strongly about.

“And the ten young men who are going to remain are Viktor Mikhailov of Atlin, Two; Abram Sidorov of Carolina, Three; Kolya Egorov of Dominica, Four, Vova Sokolov of Kent, Three, Adrian Volkov of Baffin, Five, Shura Vasiliev of Midston, Three, Ermolai Nikolaev of Dakota, Three, Pasha Angeloff of Yukon, Two, Dimitri Popov of Hansport, Four, and Gleb Vaganov of Lakedon, Two. I’m sorry to say, but those whose names I did not read will be sent home within the next day. I enjoyed my time with all of you, and this was a very hard decision for me to make. I wish all those leaving safe travels. To all those who are staying, I am looking forward to get to know each of you even better.”

She smiled at them all, hoping that she did it all well, because it felt terrible.

 _She_ felt terrible at sending people home, but somehow even worse at keeping others here.

There really was no way to win, was there?

Not for her, at least.

The other selected who were not staying left within the day. Anya avoided the remaining ones for another day. At least she had an excuse.

She was feeling sick.

That had happened a lot recently, hadn’t it?

Maybe she should see a doctor. She considered the option, but ultimately decided against it.

She was just nervous, and maybe a bit more than nervous, too.

After the day spent avoiding everyone, Anya went in to see her mother briefly before breakfast which was when she heard the news.

Her sisters were coming to visit. Olga, Tatiana, Maria. All three of them.

In two weeks, they’d all be here.

And they’d certainly want to meet the remainder of the selected.

The elite. That was what they were now.

Anya felt as if she was floating through the entire day, until she suddenly realized.

If the Bolsheviks were waiting for an opportune time to strike, it would be when the rest of the royal family was there.

It could very well end up being the massacre that Anya had been predicting.

She knew there’d be extra precautions taken, extra security, and she only hoped that would be enough.

Still, she was _very_ excited for when they came. They’d be staying for about a week. Give or take a day.


	9. Chapter 9

Dimitri—as usual—wasn’t exactly paying attention during lessons. Since he became one of the elite, the number of lessons had increased.

He didn’t really care to learn any of it. He wouldn’t need in the future, anyway. He was just staying here until Anya finally decided on the winner of the selection.

Then he’d be on his way.

Why was he suddenly feeling much worse about that prospect?

“When the other sisters arrive, they will certainly want to interact with each of you.”

Dimitri looked up from drawing on his wrist—one of his usual pastimes—when he heard that.

“You will all be expected to be on your absolute best behavior.” Dimitri felt as if her gaze lingered on him longer than anyone else. “They are queens in their kingdoms, and they will be treated as such. Now, when they arrive—”

Dimitri stopped listening again. Other sisters? What did that mean?

Maybe he should start paying closer attention.

_Nah_ , he thought. It wasn’t a likely possibility, anyway.

Thankfully, he managed to piece it together.

Anya’s sisters were going to be at the palace, in…

“—two weeks from now—”

Two weeks. Her sisters would be here in two weeks, and he was supposed to be on extra good behavior for that.

Especially when they would inevitably want alone time with him, along with the rest of the elite.

Great.

He knew already that Anya’s sisters would hate him. Anya’s parents already did. She and Alexei were just different from the rest of their family.

If the king and queen had their way, Dimitri would be long gone by now.

He was a crowd favorite, though. Usually those from lower castes became crowd favorites, and Dimitri had to admit, he was a likeable person.

Okay, maybe he didn’t _have_ to admit it, but he certainly liked to.

But if he really was going to stay in for a while—thought not to the very end, of course—he should probably figure out just what about him that most of the royal family hated.

* * *

Gleb tried to prepare himself for when the three older sisters arrived in two weeks, but it turned out to be difficult. He wasn’t sure what—if anything—would impress them. He didn’t know what they would like or consider to not be good enough for their youngest sister.

Though surely, nothing he did would be good enough for Anastasia.

Preparing was certainly a lot harder with the _others_ in the Men’s Room.

Namely one Dimitri Sundayev, who didn’t seem to care the least about the fact that the rest of the royal family were coming to visit.

Instead, he seemed to be all too investing in doodling some sort of design on his wrist, or sometimes even on paper, but usually not.

Gleb wasn’t quite sure why his gaze was always drawn to the other man, but he was certainly annoyed by it.

Gleb was stressed, and he simply did not have time to deal with Dimitri or any of the other eight elite.

And yet, Gleb’s gaze continued to be inexplicably drawn to Dimitri, no matter if they were sitting near each other or—more likely—on complete opposite sides of the room.

Anastasia’s advice to try to get along seemed to be good, but it mostly worked because they started avoiding each other whenever possible.

Whatever worked, he supposed.

By the time a week had passed, Gleb could tell that all of the elite were worried about next week. Gleb heard whispers between a few of them, asking what they thought the sisters might appreciate, and things like that.

None of them had any answers, and none of them were prepared to ask the princess herself, either.

They tried asking Alexei, who did his best to tell them about his older sisters, but truthfully, they found, he didn’t now all of them that well. He’d been very young when they moved out, and they didn’t come back to visit often.

Still, they were all grateful for Alexei’s help, but it didn’t exactly ease anyone’s worries. They were all stressed out and worried about the next week.

That is, nine of them were. All except for Dimitri.

Gleb often found himself watching Dimitri, and he noticed that the other man didn’t seem to care about a thing. Always lounging about, doodling on some surface, and ignoring anything that was said to him.

Gleb guessed, if you weren’t really planning on winning the selection, why put in the work?

It still infuriated him, more than he could even express.

But alas. Hopefully, soon enough, Dimitri would be gone, and Gleb would never have to worry about him again.

* * *

Anya waited excitedly—and nervously—in the entryway to the palace.

Maria was said to arrive at any minute. Maria—even though she was the closest to Anya in age—was the tallest of the four sisters (and obviously taller than Alexei. Even Anya was taller than Alexei, though probably not for long).

The doors opened and in entered Maria, who ran over to Anya immediately, pulling her into a crushing hug.

“Nastya, how good it is to see you!” she exclaimed.

“I missed, you, Ri!”

When they finally pulled back, Anya asked, “How’s life? As a wife, as a _Queen_?”

Maria laughed. “It’s only what I’ve prepared for my whole life.”

“Which part? The wife or the queen?”

“Why not both?” she winked. “But what about you? How’s the selection going?”

“I’ve narrowed it down to the elite,” she said.

“Well, I’m looking forward to meeting these young men.”

She turned around when they heard Alexei charging toward them both. He ran at Maria, who took him in her arms.

That was when Olga arrived. She talked with Anya for a moment before Alexei ended up in her arms and Tatiana arrived.

Anya couldn’t believe that the family was all together. She was here, with all her sisters and her brother, and her mother and father.

And ten young men who were sort-of competing for her hand in marriage—no, nine and one friend.

But she didn’t want or need to deal with that right now. Right now was family time. Even her sisters—who were all eager to meet these young men—agreed on that.

When they hadn’t seen each other in so long, everything else seemed less important. Everything else _was_ less important.

As it should be.

* * *

Dimitri quickly found himself in a private room, sitting across from all three of Anya’s older sisters, each of them studying him. He was one of the last of the elite to be spoken to by them.

He stayed relaxed, even as they began to interrogate him.

“What makes you think you’re worthy of our younger sister?” the oldest—Olga, if he remembered correctly—began.

Dimitri shrugged. “I’m not. None of us are. Certainly not me.”

They glanced at each other.

“We haven’t had anyone say that yet,” said Maria. “Everyone just gave some sort of lame excuse.”

Tatiana nodded. “It’s the right answer.”

“Why are you here?” asked Olga.

“I was selected, the princess decided to keep me here.”

“And why are you one of the ones she decided to keep?” pressed Tatiana.

“I’m her friend.”

“And the only one she’s gotten intimate with,” Maria added.

Dimitri felt a blush rise up on the back of his neck. “We kissed, yes, but I wouldn’t really that ‘intimate—‘”

“But why you?” Tatiana continued.

Dimitri shrugged. He couldn’t exactly give the truth on this one. The only reason they kissed—and it had happened a couple times now—was to appease the public. He couldn’t very well say that.

“I don’t know,” ended up being his lame answer.

“Tsk, tsk,” said Olga. “I think you do.”

“We—we’re friends,” Dimitri stuttered.

“He’s hiding something,” Maria whispered to Tatiana, who nodded, still loud enough for Dimitri to hear easily.

“I don’t know why,” insisted Dimitri—even though it was a blatant lie. “It just sort of… happened.”

“The first time, maybe, but what about the other times?” Olga pressed.

“I… I don’t know.”

They decided to move on to other questions, mostly about Dimitri himself, which he answered with easy lies.

And then he was on his way.

Even though he knew he had failed miserably, he didn’t much mind. Even if he had done well with the sisters, it wouldn’t matter in the end, because Dimitri would get sent back to Hansport, no matter who Anya chose. They were friends, and that was the deal. Dimitri stayed until the end, and then when Anya chose a winner, he would go back home.

That had been the plan all along. They both got what they wanted, and happily ever after for everyone. No one got hurt. It was a good plan. A solid plan.

He was starting to wonder why he felt like it was failing.

Dimitri was passing through empty halls when the palace began to shake again. Distant screams echoed through the halls.

And Dimitri knew this was no minor attack, like all the others had been.

This one would be just what Anya had been predicting.

A massacre.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :o drama!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: blood and death (not in detail but it's there)

Gleb knew he was too far away to find anyone when the screams began. He had to find his own cover, and hope that he would somehow make it through.

He dove into the room closest to him, and was surprised to find himself face-to-face with Dimitri, who immediately closed the door and locked it behind Gleb.

This was going to be _great_.

“Help me barricade the door,” said Dimitri, and Gleb did so wordlessly.

There wasn’t that much they could do safety-wise in this room, so the best way to make anything work would be to make sure no one even entered the room.

After stacking furniture in front of the door, Gleb looked around, looking for anything he could use as a weapon, and any other way that someone could enter.

There was a balcony, which could be dangerous. If they stepped out, someone could be waiting below. Someone could also drop down from above.

They barricaded that door, too.

They also managed to come up with things that could pass as weapons, and then they prepared themselves for battle, should it come, but also for a long time of waiting.

Soon, Gleb found himself sitting down against the wall, Dimitri a couple feet away from him on the same wall, once again drawing designs on his wrist.

“Why do you do that?” Gleb found himself asking.

“Do what?”

“Draw on yourself,” Gleb continued. “Why do you do it?”

Dimitri shrugged. “It helps me think, I guess. Helps me get through long and boring things, helps me get through dangerous situations. It just helps.”

“Hm,” Gleb said thoughtfully.

“Do you have something like that?” Dimitri asked, glancing up at Gleb.

Gleb tried to think of something, but he really wasn’t sure.

“I guess… I don’t know,” he eventually answered. “I… I like to observe people, and things. Does that count?”

Dimitri nodded. “I think I’ve noticed you doing that.”

They slipped into silence again, until Dimitri asked, “How much do you know about me? You know my name, my caste, how much else?”

“Not much,” Gleb replied. “I _tried_ to do some research, but there didn’t appear to be that many records of you, at all.”

Dimitri smirked slightly. “I’ve always been a hard one to find. That’s probably why I was able to fake being a Four so easily.”

“How did you do that, by the way?”

“Can I trust you to not divulge it to anyone else?”

Gleb nodded. He’d likely pay for agreeing later, but he was curious.

“Well, I have a friend who is a Four. He kind of helped to raise me, since my parents died, but that’s beside the point. When I heard about the selection, I took an application form from someone’s mailbox, a Two, probably, and ran to Vlad, the friend I mentioned. He helped me to forge some paperwork saying that I was his son, and boom. I was suddenly a Four, as far as anyone knew. I always had wondered just how it had worked so easily.”

Gleb nodded.

“My father died, too,” he eventually whispered. “When I was a kid. He was an officer. It’s been my mother and I for a few years now.”

“I’m sorry,” said Dimitri. “That must have been hard for you.”

“But what about you?” asked Gleb. “You said your parents died. What happened to them?”

Dimitri let out a long breath and Gleb feared he crossed a line. “My mother died of sickness when I was very young. I don’t remember her. My father… well, he was an anarchist. He caused some trouble and caused our whole family to become Eights. We were… Fives, before, I think.” That would explain his art skill. “He was… sent away, I guess. Must have died somehow. I don’t have a lot of details on how it happened, exactly.”

“Oh,” breathed Gleb. “I’m terribly sorry.”

Dimitri shrugged, grinning slightly. “It doesn’t really matter. Not anymore. That’s in the past. We’ve got other things to worry about now.”

“Like the fact that rebels could barge in at any moment and kill us?” asked Gleb.

Dimitri nodded. “Yeah, that.”

Gleb reached out his hand to Dimitri, who stared at it warily. “Well, Dimitri Sundayev, even if we die in the next ten minutes, I’m glad that I managed to get to know you a little bit, and hopefully started to make things right with you.”

Dimitri ended up taking his hand and shaking it.

“Likewise, Gleb Vaganov.”

* * *

Anya felt sick as she hurried through the halls. She couldn’t stop to look or the horrors would only get worse.

There were bodies. Dead bodies. And blood. It was the massacre she had feared.

Almost everyone had made it to safety. Even all the servants had, but there were two. Two who hadn’t made it in, and now Anya feared the worst.

The only ones dead that they knew for sure were guards. Anya felt terrible about letting other people go out and risk their lives—and give their lives—for her safety, but they had known what they were signing up for.

And should it be that they were forced into military, then Anya didn’t know how to feel.

The guards had managed to capture one member of the Bolsheviks, but he died quickly, and other members were killed as well.

Even if they didn’t have someone to interrogate, they did have bodies to inspect. There would certainly be something, some distinguishing mark, but right now, that was nearly the first thing on her mind.

She had to find Gleb and Dimitri. She had to know for sure.

Anya wasn’t supposed to be doing this alone. She was supposed to have been sticking with guards, but she couldn’t wait for them. She couldn’t wait for any of them.

Anya opened every door and checked every room she passed. They were all empty, and some were completely trashed.

Still no sign of either Gleb or Dimitri.

She wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

Anya continued to open every door and search every room, until she came across one that she couldn’t open. Something was blocking it.

Anya kept pushing against the door desperately, and she even began calling out their names. It seemed hopeless, but she wasn’t going to give up. She couldn’t. Still, the door didn’t budge.

And then the door swung open and she fell inside. She immediately felt people take hold of her arms and help her up.

Anya looked up to see who was there and couldn’t help but cry tears of joy. She jumped up and threw her arms around them.

“Oh thank goodness you’re okay. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“What happened out there?” Dimitri asked.

“It was the massacre I feared,” she answered, glancing back out to the hall. “It’s like a battlefield out there.”

“Is everyone alright?” Gleb asked, following her gaze.

Anya shook her head. “No… not really. Most of us got to safety, but there are many dead. Guards. They did managed to take down a few Bolsheviks, though. That’s good news.”

Gleb broke away, moving toward the door, Anya moved her hand down to grasp Dimitri’s as they followed him out.

Anya’s original sickness returned when she stopped to really look at the destruction.

And it was horrible.

Anya could hardly bear to look.

Much of it was already being cleaned up, but not quick enough.

It would never be quick enough, and it would never be clean enough. No matter how clean it got, it wouldn’t be enough. Anya would always see the blood and the bodies lining the halls. She would be haunted by it, possibly forever.

Anya eventually had to let them go as she had work to attend to with her family. As much as she didn’t want to let either Gleb or Dimitri leave her line of sight, she wanted to hear what they knew about the Bolsheviks.

And so, she found herself in a room in the palace she hadn’t known existed, with her mother and father and sisters (Alexei was too young to be in here with them). She was hearing about everything they could guess about the Bolsheviks based on the few bodies they had.

Anya tried not to think about the bodies.

“The few we have all had similar markings on their left forearm—”

Anya saw a picture shown on a screen. A simple design, really. They didn’t know for sure that it was a distinguishing mark of the Bolsheviks, but if all the Bolsheviks they captured—or more accurately, ‘killed’—had the mark, then they could safely assume.

After learning about the Bolsheviks, Anya sought out Gleb and Dimitri and relayed the information to them. She wasn’t exactly sure why, and why it was just the two of them, but she needed to tell someone, and they were the ones who popped into her mind.

“The Bolsheviks have a mark, a tattoo, on their left forearms,” she began. “All the ones we’ve got have that tattoo, so we think it’s a distinguishing mark—”

She stopped in her tracks when she saw Gleb rolling up his sleeves.

It… it couldn’t be. It didn’t make any sense.

“What does it look like?” Dimitri asked.

Anya found she couldn’t use her voice. She couldn’t describe it.

She just pointed to Gleb’s arm and managed to choke out, “That.”

* * *

Dimitri turned to look at Gleb, who was looking confusedly down at his arm. He had multiple tattoos on his arm—Dimitri wasn’t sure why he was _distracted_ by them—but it was the one on his forearm that Anya seemed to be worried about.

“Gleb, where did you get that tattoo?” Anya asked as she took hold of Gleb’s arm and stared at the tattoo.

“I… I don’t know,” Gleb mumbled. “My father had it and I got it to have something in common…” He trailed off as realization and horror dawned on his face. “I have to go.” He pulled his arm away from Anya and ran off without another word.

Dimitri couldn’t speak, only stare after Gleb as he got farther and farther away.

“What do we do?” Dimitri eventually managed to murmur.

“I… I don’t know,” was Anya’s response. “I think… I think we give him time to process, at first.”

“And then what?”

“We’ll have to find out.”

Dimitri didn’t respond this time, only watched the empty space where Gleb had been.

He didn’t know what all this meant or what it would entail, but he knew it wasn’t good.

Gleb was noticeably absent from dinner that night. People asked after his whereabouts, to which Anya dismissed them by saying he was ill.

It was much later that night that Dimitri began to seek out Gleb. Anya had been caught up in other business, else they would have gone to look for him together, but it ended up being just him.

Dimitri found Gleb in a library—which Dimitri hadn’t known existed before now—with dozens of books open around him and a computer too. His jacket had been carelessly thrown over the back of the chair, his sleeves were rolled up, his hair beginning to fall in front of his face, and he wore reading glasses, which Dimitri hadn’t known about before. Gleb was too focused on what he was reading on the computer that he didn’t notice when Dimitri came in.

Instead of going over to him, Dimitri stood there for a minute, watching Gleb. It was slightly fascinating, just to watch him, and Dimitri wasn’t quite sure why.

And then Dimitri shook himself out of his daze and made his way over to Gleb.

Dimitri placed his hands on Gleb’s shoulders as he looked over Gleb’s head to see what he was reading.

“How’s it going?” Dimitri asked softly, though he wasn’t entirely sure what ‘it’ was.

Gleb shrugged and rubbed his eyes—skewing his glasses. “I can’t find anything about my father that I didn’t already know, and I can’t find hardly anything about the Bolsheviks. It looks like a dead end.”

“Oh,” said Dimitri, pulling out a chair and sitting down beside Gleb.

“But I did find something else that you may be interested in.”

Gleb pulled something else up on the computer and motioned for Dimitri to read it.

It was records. A list of people. Dimitri’s eyes scanned the page until he found something he recognized.

_Sundayev._

His father.

Dimitri read on. Records of birth, of life, of family (not a single mention of Dimitri—they didn’t seem to know he existed), of... death.

_Arrested… sent to a labor camp… killed._

Dimitri couldn’t bear to read on. He knew how it happened, now, and it hurt. A lot. He’d always known that his father died, sometime after he was arrested, but that was about it. Now that he knew how, it hurt much worse.

He turned away from the computer. “Thank you, for looking into it for me.”

Gleb nodded as a response. “Now if only I could find anything about my own father.”

Dimitri put his hand on Gleb’s back, whispering, “Take a break, Gleb. You’re exhausted.”

Gleb shook his head. “I can’t stop. Not until I find out just how much of a lie my entire life was.”

“Your life isn’t a lie, Gleb. I don’t know what is going on, but your life is not a lie.”

“How do you know that?” Gleb asked, turning his head to look at Dimitri, who wasn’t quite sure why his heart started racing.

“Because I’ve seen you, Gleb. Unless you have been actively lying about yourself the whole time we were here, that thing on your arm doesn’t change anything.”

“But it does,” whispered Gleb. “It does. Dimitri, I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

“You snap out of this,” Dimitri exclaimed. “You are Gleb. Gleb Vaganov, and whoever your parents turned out to be can’t change that a bit. Got that?”

Gleb nodded. “I just… I just feel, betrayed, kind of. I looked up to my father my whole life, I got this stupid thing,” he motioned to the tattoo on his arm, “because he had it. Now I find out he might have been a member of the group that’s been trying to kill the royal family for years, and now is even trying to kill us, and I don’t know what to feel.”

Dimitri nodded sympathetically. “It’s hard, to find out something so devastating that it turns your whole world upside down. I’m not sure if I have the right thing to say to help you, but I know that you need sleep. You need to _rest,_ Gleb, and I’m not going to leave until you agree to.”

“No, no,” Gleb tried to protest. “I need to stay here and keep searching. You can go off to bed…” He stopped at seeing Dimitri’s expression. Dimitri would not back down. Gleb _needed_ rest, and Dimitri was here to make sure that he got it. “Maybe, maybe I do need rest,” he relented.

Dimitri nodded. “We can continue this later, hm?”

Gleb nodded slowly as he began to rise.

“Tomorrow,” he yawned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was kinda where i lost track of where i was going, so i guess that's a warning for the rest :/


	11. Chapter 11

Gleb woke late the next morning, heading directly to the library and resuming what he had started the night before, not exactly caring that he was missing breakfast and lessons as well.

He had more important things to deal with right now.

Gleb was surprised to find someone in the library. Dimitri, sitting in the seat Gleb had occupied and seeming to continue Gleb’s research.

Gleb found himself standing and watching Dimitri for a moment, which was when he saw Anastasia come over to that same table with a stack of books.

He couldn’t help but get emotional over the fact that they were _helping_ him. They didn’t abandon him, after learning that his family was part of the Bolsheviks.

He couldn’t quite understand why.

Gleb managed to make his feet work again and he made his way over to Dimitri and Anastasia. They greeted him with smiles and started to catch him up on what they’d found.

“I’ve managed to find a few books not allowed for the general public,” said Anastasia, gesturing to a stack. “We haven’t had a chance to look through them yet, though.”

“I’ve tried to find something more on this, but I’m afraid I’m pretty terrible when it comes to electronics,” Dimitri winced. “I can’t find anything.”

“That’s because you need to hack it,” said Gleb, leaning over Dimitri toward the computer. He stopped and looked over to Anastasia. “I guess, uh, would you be okay with that, Anastasia, I mean princess, uh,” he faltered.

She simply smiled. “Anya. Call me Anya. And yes, I’m completely fine with that.”

Gleb couldn’t help but smiling back at her, before realizing that he was probably staring and returning back to the task at hand.

By then, Dimitri had vacated the seat and started to look through the books that Anastasia—Anya—had brought out for them

Halfway through the day, and not much further along, Anya found that she had other business to attend to—again—and left.

Gleb and Dimitri shared a glance. They knew this time that ‘other business’ meant a date.

Neither of them seemed to mind all that much. Anya had to get to know each of the selected. That was how the selection worked.

Why did it feel so much worse now?

“You and Anya have been friends for a while,” Gleb found himself saying. “Because you had no interest. Is that still true?” He suspected otherwise.

Dimitri hesitated. “I… I thought so, but since we kissed that first time, well, it’s felt a lot more complicated. I’m not sure what I want anymore.”

Gleb nodded thoughtfully.

They didn’t speak for a while later, until Dimitri seemed to notice Gleb rubbing the tattoo on his forearm nervously.

Gleb pretended not to notice Dimitri staring at him for a good minute or two before he first spoke.

“I can try to cover that up for you, if you’d like,” he offered.

Gleb looked up and met Dimitri’s eyes. “You could?”

Dimitri shrugged. “Well, I’ve never actually done tattoos before, but I could probably learn, if I got the right tools. Or we could get a professional… but I guess what I’m saying is, I can draw over it, if you want, that is.”

Gleb nodded and held out his arm. “I’d like that.”

Dimitri looked adorably excited about the idea, seeming to summon markers out of his pockets and taking hold of Gleb’s arm.

After the first minute or two, which felt rather strange, Gleb found he liked the feeling.

Though he wasn’t entirely sure if it was the feel of the marker on his skin or the feel of Dimitri’s hand holding his wrist.

Gleb tried to focus on what he was reading, but it was really distracting to have Dimitri sitting so near, drawing on his skin.

It was extremely distracting.

Gleb glanced over when Dimitri pulled away. He looked down at his arm and nearly cried tears of joy.

Dimitri had covered the entire tattoo in colorful swirls and shapes. It was beautiful, more so than Gleb could even begin to describe.

“It won’t last for long. None of it does.” Dimitri pulled down the cuff of his sleeve to show the light and blurred art on his own wrist. “But it’s something. And I’m willing to do it again, if you want.”

Gleb nodded slowly, still staring down at his arm. He found himself getting choked up. “Thank you.”

Gleb looked up to see Dimitri nodding, not meeting Gleb’s gaze.

He began to ask what was wrong but was soon interrupted by Dimitri lunging forward and was cut off by Dimitri’s lips against his own.

Gleb could hardly even process what was happening by the time Dimitri had pulled away and ran off.

_What the heck just happened?_

Gleb stood up and followed in the direction Dimitri had gone.

“Dimitri, what was that?” he yelled.

“I don’t know!” was his response.

Gleb managed to catch up to where Dimitri had gone, grabbing his arm to stop him from getting farther.

Dimitri was breathing heavily when he finally managed to look up and meet Gleb’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “That… that was never supposed to happen.”

“Don’t be,” Gleb found himself saying.

And he found himself pulling Dimitri back into him and continuing the kiss that was cut too short.

* * *

Anya found herself hating to leave Gleb and Dimitri. She didn’t want to do anything else—even spend time with her sisters that were only staying a few more days!—especially not go on another date.

She was starting to get used to calling them ‘dates,’ but that didn’t really make them any better to deal with.

She felt kind of bad, going on dates with people she knew she wasn’t interested in.

But did she know who she _was_ interested in?

Anya pondered the question—which made her feel even worse about ignoring her date—but didn’t really come up with an answer.

It wasn’t until even later, much later, in fact, when the date was over and Anya was starting to head back toward the library that she had to stop to sit down.

Her heart had begun racing for some unexplainable reason when she tried to find an answer to her burning question.

Maybe… maybe there was someone… someone in the selection, even, that she was interested in.

And maybe, there was more than one.

She wasn’t entirely sure. She didn’t know if she would ever be entirely sure, but it _felt_ right.

And wrong at the same time.

Up until a few weeks ago, she hadn’t really liked Gleb at all that much. He had intrigued her, that was for certain, but she hadn’t liked him.

Now, that was certainly at least beginning to change.

And Dimitri…

She’d been friends with Dimitri for months now, but that was all they were. Friends.

Since the kiss, the first one, _her_ first kiss, she felt something… new, blooming within her. A warm and fuzzy feeling.

Was this… love?

That seemed like a large word, one with a burden she wasn’t ready to carry.

What she did know now was that choosing between Gleb and Dimitri was going to be impossible, and choosing a different one of the selected would be just as hard.

But she couldn’t have two winners of the selection. She had to let one go.

Anya wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to do that.

* * *

Dimitri felt his heart pounding when he and Gleb pulled apart. They still stood close, foreheads rested together. Dimitri’s hands were on Gleb’s shoulders, and he felt Gleb’s hands on his waist.

“This is dangerous,” Dimitri panted.

“I know,” was Gleb’s response.

“Illegal.”

“I know.”

“If we get found out, we’ll both be killed.”

“I know.”

“And I don’t care in the slightest.”

Gleb grinned and chuckled quietly. “I know.”

“What are we going to do?”

Dimitri finally managed to open his eyes fully and meet Gleb’s intense gaze.

“I… don’t know.”

The only safe thing they could do was ask to be dismissed, because then they could go about a life on their own, but Dimitri didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to leave Anya, he found. Even if it meant risking death, he couldn’t leave Anya.

Oh. That was why.

“I love Anya,” he found himself blurting out, hoping desperately that Gleb wouldn’t see it as an offence, because he loved Gleb. He knew that now.

Gleb nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

“So we stay?”

He nodded again. “We stay, for as long as she allows us. When the time comes, when she lets us go…”

Dimitri couldn’t bear to think of that, even if he knew it would happen, eventually.

They had to break apart eventually; someone would come looking for them soon enough, and whether that person be Anya or anyone else, they couldn’t let them know.

It was a secret between the two of them, and it would remain that way. No one else could know, because it would mean the end of them both.

And yet, it was still _so_ worth it.

Over the next while, they continued to search for information about the Bolsheviks and Gleb’s father, but they couldn’t afford to spend entire days in there for any longer. It just became a late night activity.

When Anya’s sisters left, Dimitri felt a bit bad for feeling relieved. They never actually spoke to him, after that interrogation, but he knew that they did not like him.

Still, he would be willing to deal with them forever to make Anya happy.

Anything, to make Anya happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me writing this/reading it again: wow that happened quickly 😳


	12. Chapter 12

Another month passed, and still, Gleb had nothing. Nothing about the Bolsheviks, about his father, about anything.

He did, on the other hand, have Dimitri and Anya’s support… and a bit more than support from Dimitri.

They’d yet to be suspected for anything, as far as they knew, but that was because they never even so much as spoke to each other in the slightly more public view.

Gleb found himself wandering aimlessly through the palace one night, deep in thought.

Which was where he ran into Anya. She was sitting alone on a bench, seeming just as deep in thought as Gleb had been. He sat down beside her.

“What’s bothering you?” he asked.

Anya shrugged. “I… I’m getting close to the end of the selection, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“What, you’re going to miss the constant attention?” he joked.

“Oh no, certainly not,” Anya laughed. “I’ll be glad to have a bit of my own time again. It’s just…” she stopped, looking up at the high ceiling above them. “Y’know, it’s kind of hard to say to you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re part of the problem.”

She turned to look at him, and Gleb could feel himself drifting slightly toward her, as she did the same toward him.

And then they met in the middle.

Anya was softer, sweeter than Dimitri. When she pulled back, Gleb found himself saying, “So is that it, then?”

He dreaded the possibility, but also dreaded the possibility of it being anyone but him.

She shook her head. “I wish it was as simple as that. No, the problem is that it’s not just you. Dimitri, too.”

Gleb nodded. “I think we need to go talk to Dimitri.”

“Right now?”

He nodded again. “Right now.”

* * *

“Oh, okay,” said Anya as Gleb took her hand and started to walk with her through the palace. He seemed somewhere between excited and worried. She wasn’t exactly sure what that meant.

They found Dimitri who looked both surprised and slightly confused to see them, especially at seeing Gleb’s expression, which Anya was having a difficult time reading.

Without a second thought about what she was doing, Anya pulled Dimitri’s face to hers and kissed him. It felt so different than all the other times. It felt like… more.

It took a moment, but soon she could feel Dimitri’s hands on her upper back as he kissed her back.

When they pulled back, she blurted, “I love you, both of you.”

Dimitri looked at her than at Gleb who still stood behind her.

“Isn’t that a relief,” he laughed. “Makes this a lot easier.”

Anya watched in shock as Dimitri grabbed Gleb’s tie and pulled him in. She felt Gleb’s hand rest on her waist as he and Dimitri kissed.

Well… as much as she hadn’t expected it, she felt relieved.

She wouldn’t need to choose between them; instead, she just needed to convince the rest of the world that it would be fine.

That would be… interesting, to say the least. Hard was more accurate. It could even be impossible.

But she was going to try.

After Gleb and Dimitri pulled back from each other, the each planted a kiss on her cheeks in unison. Anya couldn’t help but giggling.

Oh she was so far gone for both of them.

“We have to talk about how we’re going about this,” Gleb whispered. “How we go forward.”

Anya nodded. “I’ll try to figure it out. Hopefully we can find something… something that can help us find a way to make this work.”

“Until then?” Dimitri asked.

“The selection will have to continue.”

Anya hated the idea of continuing the selection. She wanted it to be over. She chose a winner—two, actually—and she wanted to end this game.

She just wanted to continue her life, go on with it with just adding in something new.

Though she didn’t have much of a choice until she figured out just how to handle having more than one victor.

* * *

Within another day, it became clear that everyone else knew that something had happened last night.

There were cameras in the palace much more often now. Dimitri could hardly turn a corner without running into a camera, watching and filming his every move.

And he hated it.

Dimitri couldn’t help but feel slightly violated every time a camera caught him, even when he was prepared for it.

But if he was going to stay here, with Anya, he’d have to get used to them.

Dimitri just wished he could combine his old life with his new one. He didn’t want the attention that came with the royal family, but he couldn’t go back after Gleb and Anya. He couldn’t leave them. He’d never be able to go back to his old life.

Dimitri supposed that a lack of privacy was a good exchange for food, warmth, a place to stay, and true love.

He almost added ‘safety’ to the list but that wasn’t something he got while here. Just a different kind of danger.

Whether or not it was a better or worse kind of danger Dimitri had yet to decide.

Dimitri found himself fidgeting more often over the next few weeks. Even his usual tactics of drawing on his arm didn’t seem to help him. He needed fresh air. Desperately.

But they weren’t allowed to leave the castle except for special occasions, and today was not one of them.

He could always go up to his own room and out on the balcony, but that wasn’t enough. He needed to run. He needed to move.

Dimitri had been trapped inside for far too long. He was starting to feel that now.

Shaking his head, Dimitri stood up and began to wander the castle. If he couldn’t go outside, he had to at least move. He had to _go somewhere_.

Dimitri wasn’t sure how it happened, but he found himself in a part of the palace he’d never been before.

He probably wasn’t even _allowed_ to be here.

Dimitri knew there were parts of the palace he wasn’t allowed to be, he just wasn’t sure if this was one of them.

Silently taking in his surroundings, Dimitri heard faint voices from farther down the hall. He closed his eyes and listened, even if it was probably a bad idea.

“Security is always low during the report,” said a low voice. “It would be an optimal time to strike.”

 _Strike?_ Dimitri wondered. _What could they mean by ‘strike?’_

He continued to listen as he carefully and silently made his way farther down the hall toward the voices. There was a door slightly open, with warm yellow light filtering into the dark hallway.

“We still need a couple weeks to prepare,” a second voice added. “We were hit hard.”

“It’s been weeks already,” a third voice joined the mix. “How much longer will we need?”

“Two weeks at the least,” said the second voice. “Perhaps more.”

Dimitri crept closer. He could faintly see the form of a person, but with the bright light and distance, he still couldn’t see any details.

“You get two weeks,” hissed the first voice. “We will be ready, and this time we will finally bring the royals down once and for all.”

Dimitri cursed himself for letting out a quiet gasp. He continued to stand still, crouching down against the wall, hoping that no one heard him.

It was not to be.

“What was that?” the second voice asked.

“Someone’s listening,” growled the first.

Dimitri saw one of them coming to the door and stepping out into the hall. He prayed that they wouldn’t see him, while watching the person in the doorway, trying to make out any details about the person’s appearance.

He watched the person disappear back into the room, the door closing behind him, and he figured he must have gone unnoticed.

Dimitri stood up and began to run back in the other direction when he felt something, a hand, wrap around his throat and hold him up in the air. Dimitri tried desperately to free himself from the tight grasp. He could feel his legs flailing off the ground as he grabbed at the hand. Still, the grasp didn’t loosing, tightening instead.

Dimitri still tried to free himself as he looked at the face of his captor, which turned out to be covered.

The only thing Dimitri could see was the forearm. A Bolshevik tattoo.

And then his vision started to fade.

* * *

Dimitri woke later—he wasn’t sure how much later—in his room.

He sat up, the blood rushing up to his head making his thinking blurry. He grabbed his forehead, trying to remember what all had happened.

The Bolsheviks. The discussion he’d overheard. The plan to attack, during the report, two weeks from now. It all came rushing back.

He started to move to stand when he was forced to stop. Dimitri gulped—finding it painful, very painful—as he looked out of the corner of his eyes to see someone, masked as the other, standing beside him, pressing a gun to Dimitri’s head.

“Don’t move,” the man growled. Dimitri recognized it as the first voice. “How much do you know?”

“N-not much,” said Dimitri, finding his throat sore and voice hoarse. “I only barely arrived.”

“Lies,” he hissed. “How much do you know?”

“I told you! I only know a little!”

“What?”

“I… uh I know something about two weeks, and… I know you’re Bolsheviks. That’s all, I swear!”

“Hm,” he seemed to consider what Dimitri had said. “You will not share what you know with anyone. Not a soul. I have eyes and ears everywhere. If you share what you know, I will know, and you don’t want that, now do we?”

Dimitri gave a slight shake of his head.

“Consider this a warning. Much worse things can happen to you than what will come.”

And then he was gone. Dimitri couldn’t bring himself to move even after another minute or two.

What did he just get himself into?

The mystery around the Bolsheviks was beginning to become clearer, as if one layer of the mystery had been removed, which wasn’t a lot, but it was something.

But he couldn’t breathe a word about it. To anyone.

Or else he’d have another gun pressed to his head, only this time, it would have a different ending.

A much, much worse ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...well yay that they actually had brain cells in the beginning... and sorry...


	13. Chapter 13

Anya frowned to herself. She was alone with her parents, who were lecturing her on the public’s current view of the selection.

“It’s still not enough for them,” her mother said gently.

“It’s never enough for them,” Anya protested.

“Nastya…”

“They want a winner,” said her father. “They want you to pick someone and get on with it.”

“I thought they liked the drama.”

“They did,” agreed her father, “for a while. Now, it’s dragging on too long, and the people are bored. They want it to be over.”

 _So do I_.

“Well,” began Anya cautiously, “I have someone.”

“You chose a person?” her mother perked up.

“Kind-of. I’ve chosen two people.”

Their faces fell for just a moment.

“Well,” said her father, “that’s a good start. You can dismiss the other eight—that will surely put on a show!—and then pick from the two.”

“No, you don’t understand,” said Anya. “I’ve chosen two. I’ve decided. I want them both.”

Her heart sunk as her mother looked down at her lap and shook her head. “You can’t have _two_ victors.”

“Why not?”

“It isn’t how the selection works,” her father explained.

“Usually the selection is for the crown prince,” Anya protested, “not a princess who isn’t even destined for the crown. Thirty-five women are chosen. For mine, it’s thirty-five men. Why are you fine with changing some rules but not the others?”

Her father shook his head. “That isn’t how marriage works, my dear.”

“Why can’t it be?”

“It hasn’t happened before.”

“And can’t I be the first?”

“You can’t.”

“Then we won’t get married,” she decided.

“Not an option,” said her mother. “You must set an example for all of Illéa to follow.”

Anya had to refrain from rolling her eyes. “Then let me marry them both,” she decided on saying.

They both shook their heads.

“Why are you so against this idea?”

“It goes against tradition!” her father protested.

Anya bit back a reply that wouldn’t be fit for a princess to say. “Then we can change tradition. Illéa is different from what it once was! Can’t you see? We can grow to be better, better than we’ve ever been before! Why don’t you welcome change when it reveals itself?”

“Nastya, leave us,” said her mother. “We will discuss this later.”

Anya started to leave, but stopped when her father asked, “Who are the two?”

She didn’t turn around as she said, “Gleb Vaganov and Dimitri Popov.” She felt slightly odd saying Dimitri's fake last name, but it was the only one her parents knew him by.

They were silent, and Anya took it as her chance to leave.

That did not go at all how she would have liked.

Anya knew something was wrong when Dimitri was silent during and after breakfast, and when she finally managed to get him to speak, his voice was hoarse.

“What happened to you?” she asked worriedly.

“Don’t want to talk about it,” he croaked.

Anya opened her mouth to refute, but she let it pass, for now. Dimitri was in a bad mood, and she knew it was best not to push him.

If it continued, though, that was a different thing entirely.

* * *

Gleb would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about Dimitri. He’d been quiet and secretive, and Gleb couldn’t work out why.

But he was worried. He knew that. Dimitri was acting strange, and Gleb wanted to find the reason. In fact, he was desperate for it.

He was desperate to know what seemed to be causing Dimitri so much pain.

Gleb knew that Anya was just as worried, but she seemed to be more willing to wait it out and see if he’d come out and say. Maybe he would, but Gleb couldn’t wait until then.

He couldn’t afford to wait, because it just might get worse before Dimitri would say, and he may never even say.

So Gleb sought him out. Gleb found him in the library, staring down one of the halls of shelves. He didn’t notice when Gleb came in.

“Dimitri? What are you looking at?”

Dimitri shook his head quickly, seeming to shake himself out of a sort of trance before he turned back to Gleb. “Nothing,” was his answer.

“Yeah, right,” said Gleb, walking over to Dimitri and looking down the hall. There really was nothing there. Hm. “Okay, so there is nothing there. What’s been bothering you?”

“It’s nothing,” said Dimitri. “You keep trying to interrogate me, but there’s no answer. I’m not hiding anything, I swear.”

Gleb looked into Dimitri’s eyes, full of hurt.

“I wish I could believe you, Dimitri… but I don’t.”

“Gleb,” whispered Dimitri, reaching for Gleb’s hand. “If I were ever to lie to you, to hide anything, it would never be of my own choice. It would be to protect you from the things I know, the things I’ve seen, but I am not lying to you. I swear it.”

Gleb believed everything but that last part. “You don’t have to protect me.” Gleb took Dimitri’s hand and squeezed it tight.

Dimitri shook his head. “No, I do.”

He pulled his hand away and ran off.

Instead of going after him, Gleb looked back down the hall. He thought he had seen something, movement, out of the corner of his eye, but when he looked there again, it was gone.

He must have imagined it, he determined.

* * *

Dimitri’s breath hitched when he came into his room and was met with a gun to his face yet again.

“You got close,” the man growled.

“But I didn’t say anything,” Dimitri protested. “I haven’t told anyone.”

“And it will stay that way, or else.” Dimitri felt the cold metal of the gun’s barrel press against his forehead as a warning. “You know the consequences.”

Dimitri gulped and nodded.

He heard a knock at the door, turned his head toward the noise. When he turned back toward the rest of his room, he saw that the man had disappeared.

At least, disappeared from sight. He was still here. Watching. Dimitri knew that much.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Dimitri turned back to the door and opened it.

This time, it was Anya.

“I think it’s probably time for me to tell you the plan,” she decided. Dimitri motioned for her to come inside. They ended up sitting on the edge of Dimitri’s bed.

“I talked to my parents,” she began slowly, “about… us and Gleb.”

“What did they say?”

She scowled. “That we’ll talk about it later. Still, I’m planning on dismissing the other elite.”

“All eight?” Dimitri said in surprise.

She nodded. “I’m going to do it next week. It’ll certainly appease the people while I work this out with my parents.”

Dimitri nodded.

“I’ve already talked to Gleb about it, and he agrees that it’s a good plan. What do you think?”

Dimitri hesitated. “I think it’s the best one we can get now.”

“That’s what Gleb said,” Anya informed him. She looked around his room. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in here before.”

“And you’ve been in Gleb’s room?” Dimitri joked.

Anya punched his arm. “Not like that!” she insisted.

Dimitri rubbed his arm. “You’re pretty strong for a princess.”

“And princess can’t be strong?”

“Not what I meant!”

Anya realized pretty quickly that she had other business to attend to, and left.

Dimitri’s eyes glanced carefully over his room, watching for any sign of where the man had gone, but he found nothing.

The idea of staying in the palace struck fear into Dimitri. Would he have to deal with walking in a room and finding a gun in his face every day?

It sounded like a terrible life… but Dimitri would be willing to deal with it.

He just worried about having to keep secrets. Dimitri hated to keep secrets from Anya and Gleb. He hated to lie to them.

He wanted it to stop, but it couldn’t.

Not unless he gave his life as a result.


	14. Chapter 14

Gleb didn’t know what was going on, but he knew it was bad. He knew that something was wrong, very wrong.

He hurried through the hall, not particularly caring who saw him. If what he understood—which was very little—was true, nothing would matter in a short amount of time.

He dashed to Dimitri’s door, meeting Anya just outside.

“Any idea what’s going on?” she asked hurriedly.

Gleb shook his head. “I was going to ask you that.”

Anya grabbed the doorknob and entered Dimitri’s room without pausing to knock.

Dimitri had his back turned to them, but he turned around when he heard them come in. There were tears sitting in the corners of his eyes, but he smiled when he saw them.

“Was wondering when you’d come,” he said, laughing quietly to himself as he sat down on the edge of his bed.

“What’s going on?” Gleb asked as he and Anya sat down on either side of Dimitri. Gleb noticed a suitcase open on Dimitri’s bed.

“I… uh,” Dimitri hesitated. It was obviously hard for him to say. “Someone found out about my past, about who I really am… and now I’m being forced to leave. I… I don’t really know what’s going to happen, just that I’m not allowed to stay any longer.”

Without a word, Anya stood up and stormed out of the room.

Gleb watched her go, certainly off to go find out more about just _who_ was sending Dimitri away, and do something about it, if she could.

Then Gleb looked back toward Dimitri, who was wiping off the tears that had begun to fall from his eyes.

“Considering… everything…” Dimitri added slowly, “I shouldn’t even be alive to see tomorrow.”

“Dimitri,” Gleb said, still slightly in shock, “how would someone have found out?”

Dimitri’s eyes flickered nervously around the room, enough so that Gleb couldn’t just believe him when he said, “I don’t know.”

“Stop lying to me.” It came out more harshly than he meant.

“I’m not—”

“You are lying. I can tell when you’re lying, Dimitri. Stop it.”

Dimitri looked up at him for a moment before leaning over in hiding his face in his hands. “I can’t.

“Why not?”

“I just can’t! You don’t understand.”

“I want to, Dimitri. Just _talk_ to me.”

“I can’t.” His whole body seemed to shake with sobs.

Gleb wanted to speak, to say something, anything that might make Dimitri feel better, but came up with nothing. He only placed his hand on Dimitri’s back, rubbing until Dimitri seemed to calm even a little bit. He kept his hand on Dimitri’s back as Dimitri sat up. His eyes were red and puffy, and there were tear tracks all down his face.

“What can I do?” he whispered.

“Y-you can’t. It’s already happened. I’m leaving, at the very least. There could be something worse. Just… just don’t worry about me. If I’m gone, you and Anya can end the selection. Be happy, that’s all I want from you.”

“Dimitri…”

“Please. It’ll give me some comfort.”

“I can’t be happy without you.”

The tears started to fall from Dimitri’s eyes again. “Try, please. I’ll never be able to live with myself knowing that I took away your chances at happiness.”

* * *

Anya felt like screaming. She wasn’t sure if she’d done it already. Screaming didn’t feel like enough.

Her parents were sending Dimitri away. They planned something more, a punishment, originally, but Anya had already managed to talk them out of that.

“He lied on the registration forms,” said her father. “He shouldn’t be here to begin with.”

“It is my choice who gets sent home and who doesn’t!” Anya exclaimed. “You dismissed him without my permission!”

“We know what is best for you, dear,” said her mother. “He is not. This is for the best.”

“It’s not! If he is leaving, so am I!”

Her parents went silent.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” her mother eventually said. “You’re delusional. He has fooled you.”

“The only person that’s delusional is you,” she hissed, then ran out of the room.

She ran into Alexei on her way out, taking his hand and leading her with her.

“What’s going on?” he asked, looking toward her and back at the door she’d stormed through.

“Trouble. Dimitri’s getting sent home.”

“You’re sending him home?”

“No, they are!”

Alexei looked back to the door and kept walking with Anya.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, trying to keep up.

“I don’t know,” Anya admitted. “I don’t know if I can keep him from being forced out.”

“But you’re the one in charge!”

“And I wish that applied here,” she said bitterly.

“But it doesn’t?”

“But it doesn’t,” she confirmed.

She and Alexei went to Dimitri’s room and barged in again without knocking. Anya finally let go of Alexei’s hand long enough to go over to Dimitri and pull him into a hug, burying her face in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t convince them to let you stay,” she cried.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Dimitri breathed, wrapping his arms around her. She felt one of his hands rub the back of her head. “It’ll all be okay.”

“No, it won’t be. It won’t be okay. Not without you.”

“Shh,” he whispered.

Anya pulled back slightly, resting her hands on his chest and looking up at him. “The only punishment you’ll get is being sent back to live as an Eight, even if you technically became a Three. I’m so sorry I couldn’t do more…”

“You did more than I ever could have asked.”

Anya finally pulled back further to look at him.

Alexei immediately ran to Dimitri and wrapped his arms around Dimitri’s legs, causing Dimitri to nearly fall over.

Anya fell partially into Gleb’s side, him in turn wrapping an arm around her.

After prying Alexei off from his legs, Dimitri crouched down and whispered something into Alexei’s ear. Alexei seemed sad about it, so Anya could predict what he’d said.

Then Dimitri stood up again, Alexei going back to Anya and seeming to hide in her skirt. Dimitri didn’t speak, just looked and Gleb and Anya for a good while.

Then he sucked in a breath and grabbed his now fully-packed suitcase from his bed and told them, “Well, I guess it’s about time for me to go.”

Anya very nearly burst into tears again. She didn’t know what she was going to do. She couldn’t lose Dimitri. Even if she had Gleb. She had someone, but she was still missing someone.

And she couldn’t handle that.

Dimitri walked over to them, kissing Anya’s cheek as he passed, squeezing Gleb’s shoulder, and then he was gone.

This time, Anya couldn’t hold back her tears. She turned to Gleb, burying her face in his chest.

His arms wrapped around her and held her as Dimitri had done only moments ago.

* * *

Dimitri didn’t let himself cry again after he left the palace. He was escorted to the airport and placed on a plane directly back to Hansport.

He stared out the window at the ground passing far below him.

As unexpected as it was, Dimitri didn’t hardly feel anything. Not sadness, not mourning, not heartbreak. He was just… numb.

Part of him wanted it all to be over now. He didn’t want to go on without Gleb and Anya. He just wanted to be done.

The rest of him knew that he had a mission. There were still a few days before the day that Dimitri knew the Bolsheviks were planning on attacking the royal family. A few days to gather information, get back there, and warn them before it was too late.

He wasn’t exactly sure just _how_ he was going to do that, but he’d find a way.

He always did, didn’t he?

Somehow, this seemed different than all the other times.

The plane landed and Dimitri disembarked. Outside of the airport, Dimitri looked around at the city he’d grown up in.

It certainly wasn’t ‘home’ anymore.

Dimitri bowed his head as he made his way through the city toward a very specific building.

He knocked at the door to Vlad’s house and waited for the other man to let him in. When he opened the door, Vlad didn’t say a word and just ushered him inside.

And then the questions began, as Dimitri had expected.

“I don’t have time to just sit and talk,” Dimitri insisted. “I have places I need to be.”

“You can answer at least a question or two,” Vlad insisted.

Dimitri rolled his eyes. “Fine. Just make it quick.”

“Why are you back?”

“I was found out. They found out that I’m an Eight and I lied on the registration form, so I was sent back here as an Eight again.”

“And why are you sad about it?”

Dimitri opened his mouth to respond then closed it again.

“How do you know I’m sad about it?”

Vlad laughed. “If you could only see yourself, Dimitri.” He leaned across the table and whispered, “You look like a lost puppy.”

Dimitri wasn’t sure if he should take offense at that, but he felt like he should.

He decided on answering the question instead.

“Maaaaybe I fell in love with the princess… and another one of the selected,” he added under his breath.

“What was that second part?”

Dimitri scowled. “I fell in love with the princess and another one of the selected.”

Vlad raised his eyebrow.

“I know you’re itching to make fun of me. Go ahead and get it over with.”

Vlad didn’t, instead saying, “What are these places you ‘need to be?’”

“Lakedon,” Dimitri replied without hesitation.

Vlad nodded. “You’ll need to go through the whole of Labrador, but it’s a rather quick trip. You should be able to make it in two days, maybe one if you move quickly. Is there someplace else?”

Dimitri nodded. “Angeles.”

Vlad’s face fell slightly. “That’s all the way across the country, Dimitri. How soon do you need to be there?”

“Four days.”

Vlad shook his head. “If you managed to get transportation, you could make it, but on foot? It’s physically impossible.”

Dimitri had known it, but he had refused to acknowledge it before now. He _had_ to get back there, somehow. And quickly.

Vlad allowed him to go on his way toward Lakedon quickly. Dimitri didn’t stop at all during the day and into the night.

He managed to arrive late morning the next day.

Now just to find Gleb’s address.

Dimitri knew he saw it, somewhere. He just had to remember.

He paused everything for a moment, closing his eyes and trying to remember. He could visualize the moment, and as much as it hurt to do so, Dimitri skipped past every part of that moment.

He needed an address, quickly, because he was already running out of time.

Dimitri managed to find it in his memories, then started off in the direction that he hoped was the right one.

Before the selection, he’d never actually left Hansport, and even during the selection, he never went anywhere on his own. He was escorted on the drive to the airport and the ride on the plane, and to the palace from the terminal.

This was all foreign territory for him, but he had to make it anyway.

Dimitri found the right street and started to look for the house.

When he reached the address, he looked up at the space, staring at it for a long time.

This couldn’t be right.

There wasn’t even a house here, just…

Just ruins.

Dimitri dashed toward the ruins where the house used to stand, hoping to find something, anything that could be a clue as to what had happened here.

He searched all around, under debris, everywhere. And he’d yet to find anything.

Dimitri lifted up a larger and heavier piece of debris and gasped in horror. He turned away, suddenly feeling very sick.

Oh no.

No.

No no no no no.

When he first saw the ruins, Dimitri had been able to hold out some semblance of hope that no one had been hurt, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

Because Dimitri had come across a body. Gleb’s mother, likely.

Dimitri carefully removed the debris from around her, finding a—mostly—non-shredded cloth and laid it over her, then continued looking.

He managed to find a few books, all handwritten, as well as pictures. There were just a few, but Dimitri saved them all.

If he did—somehow—manage to see Gleb again, at least he’d be able to give him something, something to use to remember.

After searching the area more, Dimitri went a short while away, sat down on a sidewalk and leaned against the building behind him, then started to read through the handwritten books he’d found.

_In light of recent events, I will be sharing here my secrets that otherwise would have died with me._

_I regret what I have done. I regret ever being a part of the Bolsheviks. I regret leading them. I regret every act of violence I have committed. If I could go back and change the past, I would do so. I do not want my son to grow up in a violent world. I hope he knows that, and I hope he can do a better job at preventing the violence than I have._

Dimitri felt that this was not something he was meant to see. It was private. But it would be another thing that Dimitri would have to give to Gleb, should they ever meet again.

Which Dimitri had to keep himself from hoping for.

Dimitri looked through a few more of the books, finally finding something that could help him.

Now all he needed was a computer.

Dimitri looked around at all the houses around him. Just judging by the houses, they were rich.

But rich enough to have a computer?

TVs were common, computers weren’t. Not many people had them, even the richest of people.

But there was one place that Dimitri knew there would be one.

He grabbed the few things he had then started to head toward the police station.

It was getting dark by now.

Somehow—Dimitri wasn’t sure how—he needed to break into the police station, get access to the computer, and follow the instructions written by Gleb’s father to hack it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: *forgets to post a chapter until the evening*  
> me: hello my name is [redacted] and i don't know how days work

Gleb was staying up too late again. He knew that, but since Dimitri left the day before, he hadn’t been able to deal with a single moment of downtime. He plunged himself back into his research about his father, even though he knew he’d found everything he could already.

Having something to do, a distraction, made it much easier to just _not_ deal with how he was feeling right now.

He knew Anya felt the same, because she’d been in the library the whole time Gleb had, which was the whole day.

Not once did someone disturb them, except for Alexei, who came in sporadically, but had gone to bed by now.

Gleb knew it was because Anya had made it clear that she did not want to be disturbed after today’s events.

After another long time of nothing, Gleb was about to give up for the day and go to sleep. He’d been up since yesterday.

He could feel hurt if he was asleep, right?

Gleb was about the turn off the computer when something caught his attention.

A new server seemed to open entirely of its own.

Gleb recognized the server immediately, but he couldn’t understand why it would open. He was fairly certain he was the only person left alive in the world who knew about it. He only knew about it and was able to find it because of… because of his father.

Gleb opened the server, his eyes scanning through the encoded words on the screen.

_Hello? Is anyone there?_

Skeptically, Gleb found himself typing a reply.

_Who are you, and how do you know about this server?_

He waited for the reply, which came quickly.

_I think you know who I am, Gleb :)_

Gleb laughed to himself, and he was right. Only one person would manage to pull something off, then manage to encode a smiley face.

Dimitri.

_What are you doing? How do you know about this server?_

_I found your father’s journals_

_How? What are you doing in Lakedon?_

_Talking to you, duh_

Gleb couldn’t help smiling to himself again, and this time he called Anya over to see. He relayed the message so far, and began to speak every message aloud as it came in.

_But I really don’t have much time. Friday, during the report, there’s going to be a Bolshevik attack_

_How do you know this?_

_I overheard the plans. I was caught and couldn’t tell you or else I’d be killed. That’s what I was keeping from you all this time. I think they’re the ones that blabbed about who I really am to Anya’s parents_

_You overheard the Bolsheviks? How?_

_They’re in the castle, constantly. They’re everywhere. At least some of the guards or staff are Bolsheviks. I don’t know which ones_

Gleb was having a hard time wrapping his head around all of this.

_You have to find a way to clear the castle, or just stop the Bolsheviks before the report. I wish I could help you, but I can’t get there in time. I’m sorry._

“What do we do?” Anya whispered.

“I don’t know,” Gleb responded as he typed another reply to Dimitri.

_We’ll find something. You stay safe. Promise us that._

The response took longer to come through this time.

_I don’t know if I can. I don’t know what is going to happen. I could get caught any minute. I had to use a police station computer_

_Then get out of there now!_

_I have something to tell you first. In your father’s journals, the last one, it confirmed everything._

_…what?_

_Your father was a Bolshevik. A leader of them. He wrote to you. I don’t have time to type it out, but it was important. Should we ever meet again, I’ll make sure to give it to you._

_We will. We will meet again._

_There’s one more thing._

Gleb was even more worried this time.

_What?_

_I hate to have to be the one to tell you, but your house. When I arrived, it was completely destroyed. Barely anything survived. It’s a wonder your father’s journals did, but I worry that not all of them did. And…_

Gleb waited for the rest of Dimitri’s information to come through. His mind was coming up with solutions that he hated to think about.

_…no one survived. I’m sorry, Gleb_

_I have to go! Love you, bye <3_

The server closed of its own accord.

Gleb wasn’t sure what to think.

His mother, the only family he had for most of his life, gone.

In just a few days, almost everything he thought he had just… disappeared. His entire world had flipped upside down and he wasn’t sure if he could ever recover from it.

* * *

Anya rubbed Gleb’s shoulders as he hid his face in his hands. He was so incredibly tense, which made sense after everything that had happened in the past couple of days.

“Gleb,” she said quietly, moving to crouch beside him, laying one hand on the back of his head and running her fingers through his hair. “Please look at me.”

Gleb turned his head to look at her, but he didn’t quite meet her eyes. He looked… empty, which worried Anya more than anything else could have.

“Tell me what you feel,” she urged him.

His mouth formed a dozen words but he only spoke one. “Nothing.”

Anya nodded sympathetically. She wished that she could find some way to help him, but she couldn’t. She didn’t know what it was like, to lose everything, home, love, family, all in a single day.

All he had left was her and she knew that she would never leave him. She assured him of that, hoping that it helped him at least slightly, but she really didn’t know if it did.

They ended up sitting on the floor of the library, Anya sitting up, leaning against a bookshelf, Gleb nestled into her side. He never once shed a tear, but he was beyond that point.

Anya knew exactly when Gleb finally drifted off to sleep, because his breathing became slower and steady.

She sat there and watched him for a long time, carefully stroking his hair and whispering words of comfort that she knew he couldn’t hear, thankful for the fact that sleep had managed to take him quickly. She sat there, like that, until sleep finally overtook her, too.

Anya still woke long before Gleb. She knew that she probably needed to leave, to go up to her room and clean up, but she couldn’t bear to wake him. Not when he so desperately needed sleep.

She continued to sit there and watch him until he started to stir, and they both agreed to leave the library to clean up and then head to the kitchens for breakfast, neither of them wanting to face anyone else.

Anya went back up to her room, allowing herself to be cleaned by her maids as her mind wandered.

From what Gleb had told her, Dimitri had said that Bolsheviks were always in the castle, even parts of the staff. They were always watching.

What could that mean for her now? Were they watching her, even right now?

Anya tried not to let that thought bother her, but she hated to admit that it did.

After letting her maids do her hair and makeup and get dressed for the day, Anya met with Gleb—who was finished long before she was—and they headed down to the kitchens.

Neither really spoke during breakfast. They were too deep in thought.

Until Anya said, “I need to dismiss the rest of the selected.”

Gleb looked up at her. “Don’t we still need time to work things out? I know that neither of us want just the two of us.”

Anya nodded. “But I can’t let so many more people’s lives be at risk.”

“Maybe keep one other, and dismiss the rest?” Gleb suggested.

Anya nodded. “Good idea. I should go talk to them today, I think.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Gleb asked.

“Yes, please.”

They stood up and starting heading toward the Men’s Room where the remaining elite should be.

Anya stood outside the door, forcing herself the gain the courage to enter. She impulsively grabbed Gleb’s hand to calm herself.

Then she entered.

All eyes were on her as she began to speak.

“I wanted to inform all of you before anyone else,” she began. “I have chosen a winner of the selection. Those who are not the winner I have chosen—they know who they are—should be returning home, but I am not quite ready for the selection to be over yet. I need a little more time. As you know, staying in the palace is dangerous. I do not want to keep any of you longer than I need. The most of you will be returning home, but I need one of you to stay. It grieves me to let you all leave, because even if you are not the one I have chosen, I feel that I have connected so strongly with each of you, and I wish that I didn’t have to say goodbye.” She was getting far too emotional about this. “You may decide amongst yourselves who will get to stay.”

She turned away, wiping away her tears before they fell.

Well, now the selected were on their way to safety (hopefully), all Anya had left to do was warn her family and somehow get them to cancel the report.

Easy.

* * *

Dimitri started the trip to Angeles on foot. He made it about a day before he knew that he needed to find some other way.

So maybe he’d stolen a car.

And maybe he wasn’t entirely sure how to drive.

It was an honest mistake, really. He hadn’t known that the car belonged to someone, and he didn’t know the different laws about driving in the different provinces. Honestly, he didn’t see how not knowing something was a crime.

And yet, he continued to be chased across the countryside.

Dimitri stayed ahead of everyone following him.

It was the end of another day (he only had one more before Friday!) when Dimitri stopped, but not for long.

He’d become good a breaking into places, especially police stations.

Dimitri hacked into the police computer again, opening the server and hoping that Gleb was online again.

_Anyone there?_

He waited eager for a reply, knowing that his time was even more limited than before.

_Did you hack another police computer?_

_You know me. Are you and Anya working on a solution?_

_We’re trying. Almost all of the remaining selected will be leaving before Friday. We’re trying to figure out how to talk to Anya’s parents about it tomorrow._

Dimitri nodded to himself.

_Good. I’m moving as fast as I can to get to you, but I still don’t know if I can make it in time_

_Where are you now?_

_Sota_

_That was rather fast. How’d you get there so quickly?_

_I stole a car_

So maybe he was admitting it now.

_Why am I surprised?_

Dimitri grinned to himself.

_You aren’t. I’m hoping to make it to a police station in Fennley by this time tomorrow. I’ll check in with you again when I do_

_Be safe._

_I’ll try. Love you, bye <3_

Dimitri didn’t wait for a response before closed the server and started back out. He found the car he’d originally taken to be far too difficult to reach, so he took another.

It was yet another honest mistake. He obviously thought the one he was in now was the same as the original one he had, and now he was too far in to go back and return it.

No one could blame him for a few honest mistakes.

That next morning, seven of the remaining selected left. The one that stayed—besides Gleb himself—ended up being Viktor Mikhailov. Despite Viktor’s status of fame, he had actually been one of the more bearable selected. If there were any of the other elite that Gleb would like to spend more time with, it would likely be Viktor.

Now, Anya was off explaining to her parents what Dimitri had told them. Gleb hoped it was going well, but she’d been gone for a long time now. Nearly two hours.

Maybe it meant she’d managed to convince them of the danger and they were now planning how to go about the report—if it would happen—but Gleb couldn’t be sure. Not until Anya actually came and told him how it went.

Until then, he was probably going to stress about it.

And after, too.

Gleb was also anxiously awaiting hearing from Dimitri again tonight. If Dimitri managed to contact him, at any point along the trail, it meant he was safe for the moment. It meant he was okay.

And if Dimitri didn’t check in tonight…

Gleb shuddered to think of what it could mean.

Ever since the first night that Dimitri managed to contact them, Gleb wasn’t sure if he was even still feeling _anything._ He still felt numb, and empty. Nothing seemed to affect him.

He wasn’t even sure if the news of his mother had even really _hit_ him yet. He didn’t even really have the chance to even begin to comprehend _anything_ that Dimitri had told him besides the Bolshevik attack.

Gleb worried that it would all just come flooding back at once. He didn’t think he could handle that.

Anya was clearly not happy with the results as she joined Gleb in the library again.

“Let me guess, they didn’t believe you.”

“No, they believed me, they just don’t seem to care.”

That was much worse than Gleb had expected.

“’We can’t live in fear’ and ‘we can overpower them’ and all that _wonderful_ stuff,” she practically growled. “It’s not living in fear! It’s actually making good choices!”

She sat down at the table, hiding her face in her hands. She shook her head in disbelief and said, “I just can’t believe that my own parents would be okay with endangering all of our lives with this. I just—argh!”

Gleb placed his hand on her back, hoping that he was being comforting, but not really sure if it was working.

Anya looked up at him after a minute, rubbing her eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even be complaining, I’m just so frustrated. Why can’t they see what they’re doing is endangering us all?”

“Hey, you don’t need to apologize,” he whispered. “You don’t need to compare everything you go through to what others go through. It is frustrating. What exactly did they say?”

“We’ll have more security, and we’ll start early, to catch them off guard, but we have to present ourselves as strong and unafraid,” she spat. “I get that, I do; we have to set an example for the people, but we’re still endangering lives. The soldiers that we’re placing to protect us, hardly any signed up for something like this. Why is my life so much more important than theirs?”

She laid her head on the table again, and Gleb had no idea how to respond from then on.

When it was starting to get late, Gleb turned on the computer and waited.

And waited.

Dimitri was late. Very late.

An hour after the time Dimitri had said he’d log on, Gleb was really stressing. He had been the whole time, but it was becoming much more apparent.

“Do you think maybe he just couldn’t get a computer?” Anya suggested, but she didn’t sound like she believed it either.

Dimitri wouldn’t have just skipped talking to them, no matter how dangerous it was. He would find a way. He would find a computer and risk getting arrested or even killed in order to talk to them.

Which meant something had physically kept him from talking to them.

Gleb’s attention was caught by a flashing box on the computer and he let out a sigh of relief.

_Anyone there?_

_You’re late. We were worried about you._

_Oh, you were? :o_

_What kept you?_

_Nearly got caught. Had to take a longer route than I originally planned, and I still wanted to get to Fennley before I checked in_

_I told you to be careful._

_And I was! Why do you think I took the longer route?_

_Anyway_

_Did you tell Anya’s parents?_

_She did today._

_What did they say? Did they believe her?_

_Yes, but it wasn’t enough for them to really do anything._

_Really?_

_Really. They’re adding more security, but it’s not really going to do much in the grand scheme of things. We have to figure out a way to shut down the report ourselves._

_I’ll try to be there was quick as I can. I’m not going to stop at all during the night, so I should get there in the early morning_

_Have you slept at all in the past few days?_

_Haven’t had the time. I’m on the run, remember?_

_You need to rest. Come as quick as you can, after you rest a little bit._

_This is my resting time_

_You can’t drive when you’re exhausted._

_I can’t drive anyway but I’ve survived this far_

_You’re going to get yourself killed._

_And if I don’t get there in time you’re going to certainly be killed. I’d rather take a chance on myself than you and Anya_

_Stop._

_I can’t. I’ll see you tomorrow_

_Be safe, and I really mean it._

_Love you, bye <3_

Gleb rubbed his eyes. “Dimitri…” he whispered. “What are you getting yourself into?”


	16. Chapter 16

Anya played with the idea of not attending the report and going someplace else, but she decided against it.

She would just have to save everyone else from her parent’s stupid decision.

Anya enlisted her maids’ help for a little more than the usual prepping.

Her dress for today was made to break. If Anya pulled, the skirt would rip off, and she’d be left with the jumpsuit beneath.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d managed to hide a gun under her skirt.

She knew how to shoot. She knew how to use it, but had never been allowed to.

Now, it didn’t matter if she was allowed to or not. She would have to use it, to protect herself and her family.

Anya met Gleb just outside of where they filmed the report.

“Y’know,” said Gleb, grinning ever so slightly, “with the possibility of our demise in only a few minutes, you’d think I’d be afraid.”

Anya nodded. “I don’t find that I am, either.”

Gleb took her hand, turning toward her and bowing as he brought her hand up and kissed the back of her hand.

“Until then, your highness,” he whispered, then went off to his seat.

Anya couldn’t help the blush rising in her cheeks as she went off to her seat.

Based on what he’d said last night, Dimitri should be here by now. He should have arrived early this morning, and even if he did stop and rest like Gleb had tried to tell him, he still would have been here by now.

Anya was getting really worried about him. He could have been arrested, or killed and Anya wouldn’t know. Not until later, if she looked into it.

Right now, all she could do was sit still, stay focused, and wait for the attack. If it came.

She could still hope that it won’t. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, that type of thing.

Just as long as she really was prepared for the worst.

Anya watched nervously as her father began the announcements for the week, as usual. She couldn’t help the way her gaze drifted around the room, searching for something that wasn’t supposed to be there.

She watched and waited.

The report had almost finished when the deafening sound of a gunshot went off.

It had begun.

* * *

Dimitri knew Gleb was right. He was exhausted and could hardly see clearly. There was no way he’d be able to make it like this, but he wasn’t sure if he had another option.

If he stopped for much longer, he’d likely be overrun.

He just had to keep going.

Keep going.

Keep going.

There had been more than one instance where Dimitri had started to fall asleep and start to drift off, but the roads were clear, so at least no one else was in danger.

He managed to make it to Angeles, but he still had a little while to go before he would reach the palace.

And there was a lot more traffic here.

Dimitri ditched the car and continued on foot. It was early-ish morning, but he still had what was likely another hour or two before he would be there.

If he was fast enough.

Dimitri’s legs were really beginning to ache when he was still a good half hour out of the city that the palace resided in, but he couldn’t let that stop him. He couldn’t let anything stop him.

Dimitri could see the city growing on the horizon. He was close.

He took off into a run, making it into the city and nearly to the palace. It was surrounded by a wall, but he could climb it.

He didn’t get to that point. There were guards all around the palace, two of which prevented him from getting into the palace.

“No, no, you don’t understand!” Dimitri protested as they hauled him away, arresting him since Dimitri had made quite the name for himself in the past few days with the amount of laws he’d broken. “Everyone in there is in danger!”

“You are under arrest,” one of them repeated.

Dimitri fought against them, but the two of them still managed to handcuff him and begin to drag him away.

Which was when the gunshots began. The two guards turned their heads back toward the palace, their grip on Dimitri lightening ever so slightly, and Dimitri saw his chance.

He tore his arms away, dashing back toward the palace, kicking the guards back when they tried to regain their hold on him.

He reached the wall—his hands still cuffed together—and didn’t hesitate to jump up and start climbing.

Dimitri had to admit, this wall was difficult to climb (especially so in handcuffs!) but Dimitri was an excellent climber. He managed to scale the wall quickly, narrowly avoiding getting shot.

Then he climbed back down to the other side, the continuous sound of gunshots making his heart race.

He hoped he wasn’t too late.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, Dimitri started running toward the sounds of gunshots and screams.

He hardly took in the chaos around him, only seeing one thing.

Alexei.

He didn’t see.

Dimitri did. Dimitri saw the gun aimed at the crown prince’s back, and he charged directly toward it.

Dimitri managed to catch the Bolsheviks attention, throwing him off guard when Dimitri charged directly into him.

Now, moments later, Dimitri stood over the Bolshevik, his foot keeping the man pinned down.

“No one harms the crown prince,” he hissed. “Not on my watch.”

Dimitri took the gun from his hands and effectively knocked him out.

He was thrown off-balance when Alexei ran at him and hugged Dimitri’s legs.

Alexei didn’t speak as Dimitri did his best to pick the young prince up and carry him to safety. He dropped off Alexei with a couple trusted guards then turned back to the room and the Bolsheviks that were still standing.

Many were dead already. Dimitri tried not to dwell on that fact as he helped to knock out another Bolshevik.

“Dimitri?” he heard Anya’s voice call.

He turned around, grinning lopsided at her.

“What happened?” she asked as she rushed over to him.

Dimitri could hardly respond. Anya looked… different from normal. Her face was flushed, her usual fancy dresses replaced with something… else, and her hair—which was longer than Dimitri had thought—fell messily around her face. She looked radiant, despite the circumstances.

He raised up his hands that were still bound by cuffs. “Kind of ran into a bit of trouble.”

“Put your hands on the ground,” she ordered.

“What?”

“Do it!”

He did as she ordered, and she placed the barrel of her gun on the chain, pulling the trigger before he had the chance to react.

He brought his hands back up, finding the chain blown into two pieces.

He looked back up at Anya, who was looking at him oddly. Miraculously, neither of them had gotten shot yet, even while standing completely still.

“What are you staring at?”

He shook himself out of his daze. “Just never seen you with your hair down.”

They were brought back into the real world by a bullet blazing past Dimitri’s head.

Oh, right.

Anya seemed to be an absolute monster when it came to fighting off Bolsheviks. Much more competent than Dimitri himself.

Thanks to her, most of the Bolsheviks were knocked out or killed within minutes.

And then, as Dimitri looked around at the chaos around him, he couldn’t help but wonder just _why_ it all had to happen. Why his own father wanted a world without rulers. Why people wanted such violence and bloodshed.

He hated it. He hated the violence that surrounded him. He felt sick just looking at it.

Dimitri felt so _tired_. Not even just physically because of how little sleep he’d gotten, but he felt tired of the world. Tired of the violence.

He fidgeted with the chains on his wrists, knowing that he’d be left with marks, maybe even scars. He might already be bleeding as the metal dug into his wrists. Dimitri looked around again, finding where Gleb and Anya stood together and heading toward them. He lifted his bag up from around his shoulder and held it out to Gleb when he reached them.

“This is for you,” said Dimitri.

Gleb grabbed the bag out of Dimitri’s hand, staring at it for a moment before letting it fall to the ground and instead pulling Dimitri in, wrapping his arms around him tightly.

Dimitri couldn’t help but hug him back, burying his face into Gleb’s neck and bursting into tears.

“I’ve missed you,” Dimitri whispered into his neck, not knowing or even caring if anyone heard it.

* * *

Gleb didn’t let go of Dimitri until he felt Anya’s soft touch on his back, and even then, he didn’t _really_ let go. He kept one arm hooked around Dimitri’s back as they both turned to embrace Anya.

“We still have a lot to work out,” Anya reminded them.

“Later,” whispered Gleb and Dimitri, nearly in unison.

“Later,” she agreed.

They stood there, in the middle of the subdued chaos for a long while, as long as they were able. Then they were interrupted, Anya forced to attend to things with her parents, Dimitri and Gleb ushered into some sort of hospital wing before they even knew if they’d be allowed to stay for any longer.

Gleb found that he wasn’t all that injured. Sure, he had a few small cuts and bruises, but most of the blood on his clothes wasn’t his own.

Dimitri had fared slightly worse. It seemed a lot of shots had barely grazed him, but thankfully no bullets had lodged into him.

His wrists were red and sore from the cuffs, dried blood up and down his arms. His entire arms were quickly covered in bandages.

Soon after, Dimitri was whisked away for something else, Gleb wasn’t quite sure, and Gleb was left to himself.

Somehow, he’d ended up with the bag Dimitri had brought in his hands again. He slipped it over his shoulders, debating on whether he wanted to see what was inside.

Gleb wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what was written. He didn’t want to know what his father had to say about his life, or what his father had to say about him.

He wasn’t brave enough.


	17. Chapter 17

“Nastya,” breathed her mother, “we just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Anya stood up straight, not caring about her appearance, her hair wilding hanging down her back, barefoot, in a ripped and bloodstained jumpsuit.

“The only way I can get hurt is to lose them,” was her response.

“Are you really certain of this?” asked her father.

Anya nodded again. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

Her parents shared a glance.

“We can’t ignore the fact that the Mr. Popov—”

“Sundayev,” she interrupted. “Mr. Sundayev.”

“We can’t ignore the fact that he broke countless numbers of laws on his way here,” her father resumed.

“He saves Alexei’s life,” she reminded them, which certainly seemed to help.

Her mother nodded. “In exchange for saving the crown prince, we may be able to issue a pardon in this instance.”

Her father seemed to agree. “A fair trade-off, considering the situation.” He turned back to Anya. “And you are certain—”

“Yes. I have said so a million times. I want Gleb and Dimitri. Not either/or. Both.”

“How would you like to go about it?” her mother asked. “A wedding will have to be arranged, we’ll need to make some changes to tradition. Would you like a larger room in the palace to accommodate—”

Her mother kept listing off things they would need to work out, but Anya didn’t care about the work needed to be done. She only cared about what had already happened.

Anya had won. The selection would be officially over in the next day or two—once things got cleaned up and worked out—and Anya would finally get the ‘happily ever after’ she wanted with Gleb and Dimitri.

She could hardly sit still long enough to work out a few things to begin with, with promises for the rest to continue after. Then she was finally allowed to leave and go tell Gleb and Dimitri the good news.

They did it.

* * *

Dimitri wasn’t quite sure what state he was in for the next week or so. After a couple of days, the selection was announced to be over and Viktor—the only other remaining of the selected—was sent home. Dimitri was slightly sad to see him go; Viktor had been one of Dimitri’s only friends throughout the selection, but it could not be avoided.

Then came plans for the wedding and everything after.

Dimitri was sure he wasn’t much of a help when he came to that. He’d never really imagined living long enough to get married, much less actually finding someone (or two someones). He’d never even thought about what he might want, and he figured that Gleb, and to some extension Anya, felt the same.

They all managed to agree that they wanted things simple. None of them wanted such extravagance. The day should be focused on them, not whatever extra thing they could afford to include.

And at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. They’d have each other, and that was what Dimitri cared about.

Over the next week and a half, when the planned day was beginning to approach—who knew a royal party-planning team could put a wedding together in two weeks?—Dimitri felt himself in a sort of daze. He often looked down at his wrists, which were starting to heal but were still quite sore and scarred, finding it much harder to sit still. Usually, he’d draw on his wrists, but that wasn’t exactly a ‘healing practice.’

When they were covered in bandages, he did so without hesitation. It helped him, and now, without that added distraction, Dimitri found everything around him much harder to concentrate on and take in.

A lot of the time, Gleb would let—or even encourage—Dimitri to draw over the Bolshevik tattoo, which Dimitri enjoyed doing.

As an added bonus, it meant they got to sit even closer to each other.

It didn’t help all the time, though.

Like right now.

Dimitri was laying awake, beside a fast-asleep Anya, Gleb on the other side of her. He tried to sleep, but he couldn’t. The stress of the upcoming day—which was only a couple days away now!—was keeping him from getting to sleep.

Along with other added stresses.

What if he found that once he was actually part of the royal family, he stuck out even more than he could have imagined. How could Dimitri Sundayev, a lowly Eight and son of an anarchist, ever become a royal?

It just didn’t happen, but now that it was, Dimitri found that possibility even more frightening.

* * *

Gleb wasn’t sure what had woken him in the middle of the night, but he found himself unable to get back to sleep. He could feel Anya pressed up against him, and could hear soft, steady sounds of her and Dimitri’s breathing.

From just a few feet away from him, he could barely make out the faint outline of the bag Dimitri had brought. The bag that held the only things Gleb had left from his past. The bag that he hadn’t dared to open yet.

It seemed to be taunting him ever since it had come into his possession. Daring him to open it, see what was inside, and discover the missing pieces from his past.

Gleb carefully slipped himself out of Anya’s grasp, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He stared at the bag for a few more minutes, battling within himself on whether he wanted to open it and see what was inside.

He eventually stood up and crossed the small part of the room, taking the bag into his hands and starting to open it.

Gleb felt his hands brush against the leather covers of his father’s journals. He pulled the small stack out of the bag and opened the first one.

He stared down at his father’s handwriting for a long time before he even started to read the words.

Gleb found that the journal he opened was the one that Dimitri had used to get in contact. This was the one that Gleb’s father had written his tricks in.

Setting that one back down, Gleb opened another one, flipping through a few pages, barely skimming the words written on the pages until his eyes rested upon a passage addressed to him.

_Should any of my words fall into the hands of my son, I have many things that I wish to say to him._

_Gleb, I am sorry if any of my choices have ever caused you pain. I thought I was doing the right thing, and I still believe that, to some extent, but I know that I went about it the wrong way. Violence should never be the answer. I hope you can learn from my mistakes._

_All I can wish for you now is to live your life. Do not let what I have done keep you from doing what you want. I have done terrible things, and more terrible things will happen because of my influence. I do not ask for anything from you. Forgiveness, love, understanding. I do not believe that I deserve it, but know that I love you, forever and always._

Gleb felt tears begin to run down his cheeks.

His father was right. Gleb could never forgive him, and Gleb wasn’t even sure if he could love his father anymore, but these words felt real. They felt genuine.

Gleb’s fingers brushed against a different, smoother surface as he moved to turn the page.

After turning the page, Gleb was met with a photograph. The edges were torn, and the picture not the best quality, but Gleb knew what it was.

It was him, as a young child, with his mother and father. They stood in front of their house, happy.

Everything from the past couple of weeks flooded back at once, hitting Gleb with a storm of emotions. Pain. He fell to his knees and couldn’t help but sobbing, letting out everything that had been held back by his wall of emptiness.

Dimitri knew something was wrong when he woke again, later that same night (or early in the morning) after barely managing to fall asleep.

He sat up in bed, seeing that Gleb’s side was empty, then hearing the faint sound of sobs.

Dimitri gently shook Anya awake, then they both went over to see what was the matter.

“Gleb?” Anya asked tiredly as they found him curled partially on the ground, his body shaking with sobs.

Dimitri slid off the edge of the bed and walked over to Gleb. He found just what had caused this. Gleb had started to look through the things Dimitri had managed to rescue from the ruins of his home. It broke him, Dimitri realized.

Wordlessly, Anya slid under Gleb’s arm and held him tight, while Dimitri let Gleb bury his face in Dimitri’s shirt, gently stroking Gleb’s hair as he cried.

Dimitri wasn’t sure just how long they remained like that, but he didn’t mind.

Gleb managed to gain control over himself much later, immediately apologizing, but Dimitri and Anya hushed him.

“No need to apologize,” Anya insisted. “We love you, and that means we stick together, through anything.”

Dimitri nodded. “Anything,” he echoed.

Gleb choked out a “Thank you.”

“Always,” Anya whispered. “Let’s get back to bed, hm?”

Now Gleb was in between them, Anya curled into his side, falling asleep quickly, Dimitri managing to get to sleep much easier than before, after knowing that Gleb had also managed to get to sleep.

The next morning came and it was as if nothing had happened at all during the night.

Which was just how they would have wanted it.

The world didn’t need to know about their private struggles. No one except the three of them did.

Things were all falling into place for them. The only thing left was coming up quickly.

Maybe a little too quickly.


	18. Chapter 18

“Are you sure that this is all necessary?” Anya asked uncertainly.

She’d already been being prepped for over three hours, and they had barely even started on her hair.

“Completely,” said Katina, Anya’s head maid. Her and Irina were in charge here, but an entire team had been given the job of prepping Anya.

“Don’t you want to look perfect on your wedding day?” asked Irina.

Anya breathed out. “Isn’t it the actual ceremony that matters?”

“And the ceremony will be broadcasted so all of Illéa can watch,” Katina reminded her. “You must look your very best.”

“Besides, it’s not every day that you get married. You have to make it the best day of your life.”

“It already will be, even without all this fancy dress-up,” mumbled Anya.

It was about _them_ , not setting an example for the country. Her, Gleb, and Dimitri. Not Illéa. Just them.

Anya wanted it to reflect that, but as a princess, she didn’t actually have much say.

She did, though, get to have at least a bit of say in how her hair was done, and she decided that she didn’t want it done up in a fancy hair-do. She wanted it down.

And it actually managed to work out that way.

There were still intricate designs around the crown of her head, and delicate curls down her back, but even with that, it felt much more _her_.

And then she needed the dress.

Anya was going on four hours at this point, and she still wasn’t even dressed.

Heck, she hadn’t even _seen_ her dress yet. Or plans for it.

She’d been measured for it and been assured it would be perfect, but had yet to see how it turned out.

She wasn’t really sure what to expect.

“You ready?” Katina asked, laying her hands on Anya’s shoulders to guide her to a pair of closed doors on the other side of the room.

Anya found herself unsure, but she nodded anyway.

She stood in front of the doors while Katina and Irina went to open the doors.

Anya could hardly believe what she was seeing.

It was even better than she could ever have imagined.

The shape of the dress was a ballgown, with layers upon layers of white satin in the skirt, flowing atop of one another seamlessly. The bodice was white with vines of silver, spilling down slightly down the skirt. It was shoulder-less and mostly backless. Anya wasn’t sure if she had the words to describe it.

“Ready to put it on?” Irina asked.

Anya nodded slowly. If they dress looked do beautiful, Anya couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to wear it.

Irina and Katina helped Anya to get into the dress after taking off the robe she’d been wearing to cover herself.

After struggling for a few minutes to step into the dress and do up the row of buttons on the back, Katina and Irina turned Anya toward a mirror to see how she looked.

Anya couldn’t quite believe her reflection. “Is… is that really me?”

Katina and Irina smiled at her.

“Worth all the time we spent?” Katina laughed.

Anya nodded wordlessly.

And then it all hit her.

This was her _wedding_ day. She was getting married in just a few hours.

Anya breathed out deeply. She could feel her heart rate increasing steadily the longer she thought about it. This… this was big. Very big.

As much as Anya doubted whether she was ready for this all to happen, she never doubted if she was doing the right thing. She loved Dimitri and Gleb and never wanted to be apart from them.

Marriage just seemed like such a big and daunting word, one that Anya wasn’t sure belonged in her life.

Anya closed her eyes, taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart and convincing herself that she was ready. She’d been ready all along. It was time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's the end! thanks to everyone who's been reading!


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